Unwilling Assassin
by pixie blue
Summary: "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he murmured, gazing at the small, battered figure. "Tell me, Halt, did you really think you could escape?" Halt has been captured by a powerful enemy, and Will sets out to rescue him... but is he walking into a trap? AU after Oakleaf Bearers/Battle for Skandia.
1. Trouble in the East

A/N: Takes place... I'm not quite sure when, actually. All I know is that Will is still Halt's apprentice at this time, and it's after Oakleaf Bearers. Considerably darker than my other RA fics, just to warn you. As always, please tell me if I'm doing anything wrong.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"What is it, Halt?" Will asked, peering over his mentor's shoulder at the letter he was holding.

Halt gave Will a gentle shove. "Official Ranger business. Get off."

Will rolled his eyes. "I'm almost a Ranger myself now, you know. Come on, let me have a look. Please?"

His expression softened, but only slightly. "Fine. this is an urgent missive from Crowley. Just let me finish it, then you can have a read."

Halt's frown grew deeper and deeper as he read on. Once finished, he handed the piece of paper over to Will, shaking his head. "Seems there are bad happenings in the east. Crowley wants me to investigate." Will noticed that he said _me_, not _us_.

"I'm not coming with you?"

"No."

"But why not?"

"Crowley stressed that it was a solo mission."

Will sighed. There would be no changing Halt's mind, he knew. "When do you leave?"

"Read the letter," Halt replied, moving off to pack some supplies for his journey. Will's sharp eyes didn't miss that there had been a second slip of paper in the envelope that he had taken with him.

He frowned and turned back to the sheet of paper in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the familiar oakleaf insignia.

_Ranger Halt of Redmont Fief,_

_A matter of great urgency has arisen in the east. The before relatively small country of Rolingan has been expanding and conquering neighbouring lands at such a rate that we fear for Araluen. A count of more than thirty eastern countries have officially become part of Rolingan through means of conquest, and King Magnus of Rolingan seems to be moving his way inexorably west. Requesting that you immediately investigate as to whether he will be advancing towards Araluen. This is to be a solo mission; Will must stay behind to guard your fief. No exceptions. He is qualified to do so. I expect you will return to Araluen in about three months._

_Yours ever faithfully, _

_Ranger Corps Commandant Crowley_

Sighing, Will set the letter down on the table. _Whoever this King is, he must pose some threat_, he thought. He had never seen Crowley write something so brisk before, and that was saying something. He walked into Halt's room. "Need any help?"

"Sure. Might as well make yourself useful."

Will returned to the kitchen and dug up some long-term supplies. He gathered as many as he could in his arms and returned to Halt's room, dumped them on the bed and started to stow them in the supply pack. Halt grimaced at the shapeless twists of meat disappearing into his pack. "I miss proper meals already."

"Are you sure I can't come with you?"

Halt shook his head firmly. "You read the letter. Crowley specifically said you were to stay behind. We can't leave Redmont unprotected for three months without notice."

"Goodbye, Halt."

"Goodbye, Will. I'll see you again in about three months. Give Pauline my love," he said, blushing slightly. He patted his apprentice on the back, shouldered his bags and left.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

It seemed as if even nature didn't want him to leave, that it wanted him to stay in the safety of his home. Rain lashed at him and the wind howled in his face, sending the freezing drops biting into any piece of exposed flesh. Abelard's eyes were almost completely closed, the rain kept out only by his long lashes.

Finally, they reached a small copse. The wind slackened noticeably amongst the trees and the pelting rain, now deflected by the leaves, twigs and branches, dripped steadily on his head rather than whipping at him. "Really is quite miserable, isn't it?" he murmured to his horse, who harrumphed in reply. "At least it's a little better under the trees. And we can say we've had worse, haven't we? My stomach's already queasy at the mere thought of going on a ship."

The raindrops were still falling when they cleared the main forest late in the evening, reaching a rocky expanse of land that wound its way to the sea. Halt was soaked through, teeth chattering with the cold. Abelard looked nearly as miserable, his mane, tail and coat drenched. "Looks like we'll have to find a cave of sorts if we want to be warm tonight, eh?" Halt forced the words through clenched teeth, trying to stop their insistent rattling. "Get a fire going, and stay out of the rain."

Hours later and they were much in the same predicament. Halt's hands, nose and ears had just about lost all feeling, and water was starting to leak through his shoes. If it weren't for the protective cap screwed on over the top, his quiver would have been overflowing. _Surely there should've been a cave that can fit me and Abelard by now_, he thought wearily.

Like an echo to his thoughts, they suddenly stumbled upon an opening in a large rock, which opened up into a spacious cavern, easily able to house both horse and rider. Thankfully, Halt slid out of the saddle and opened one of the packs, pulling out enough for a quick meal and a small fire.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The rain slowed during the night, and petered to a stop just before dawn.

He woke slowly, stretching the muscles in his back with a groan. Abelard looked at him sleepily from the other side of the dead fire as he stood, stumbling slightly as he groped for the saddlebags. Blearily, he dug through them, grabbing the coffee tin, a mug, a pan, a waterskin and some dry twigs to build a fire with. He almost fell asleep several times as he arranged the sticks in the cold fireplace, but he finally got a little blaze going. All but missing the pan entirely, he poured enough water into the pan to make at least two cups of coffee and set it in the fire, nearly dozing off a number of times as he waited for the water to boil. Finally the water started to bubble, and he quickly made a mug of coffee, downing half of it in one gulp.

Halt was not a morning person.

Finishing the first cupful in about three seconds, he quickly filled the mug before downing the caffeinated beverage again. Now thoroughly awake, Halt doused the fire, packed the saddlebags and swung onto Abelard's back, settling in for another long day in the saddle.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

It took him another two days to reach the seaside, and just the scent of the salt in the air had his stomach churning. He wasted no time bartering passage aboard a vessel bound for the opposite coast, in the mindset that he might as well get it over and done with. The captain of the _Skyline Gypsy_ was more than happy to oblige the Ranger, chuckling as Halt turned slightly green as he boarded the ship. He immediately made his way to the railing, fully intent on staying there for the rest of the journey.

Hours passed, and Halt didn't move. He just moaned occasionally, hanging loosely over the rails of the ship.

"You gonna be there all day?" the captain asked him cheerfully.

The queasy Ranger glared at him, the effect marred by the green pallor of his face. Grinning, the captain held up his hands defensively and returned to the helm. "What is it with you sailors and finding such amusement in my suffering?" Halt muttered to himself before going an even more noticeable shade of green and emptying the contents of his stomach over the side of the ship. He wiped his arm on his sleeve, sighing quietly and settling back into his drooped position over the rails.

He was almost ready to kiss dry land when they finally drew into port. Forcing a thank you to the captain and his crew, he only waited for them to unload Abelard from the ship before setting off once again.

Several weeks of hard riding passed before the Rolingan castle finally came into view. Halt could barely keep his seat on the saddle from stiffness, and the foreboding sight of the towering black fortress was nearly enough to knock him off. He found an inn to stay for the night and settled himself in for a good night's rest. Tomorrow, he would scale the walls of Rolingan castle.

Daylight came and went, and he quietly slipped out of the inn, flipping a few bronze coins to the stableboy when he retrieved Abelard. It took him all of ten minutes to make his way to the castle, leaving Abelard in the shade of a small alleyway. He scaled the wall with ease, the giant black stone slabs that sat loosely on top of the others leaving numerous handholds and footholds for him to use.

It was almost painfully easy for him to sneak into the King's study, clambering in through an open window. Firelight flickered in the heath, showing that the room was soon to be in use. He silently moved into the shadows opposite the large desk that dominated the room, settling himself in.

He didn't have to wait long.

The door swung open, and the King of Rolingan strode in, taking his seat behind the giant desk. "King Magnus of Rolingan," Halt said quietly, stepping out of the shadows.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: I know the letter from Crowley probably seems a bit off, but I'm horrible at writing formal documents. DX

-pixie.


	2. Tables Turned

A/N: All seems like a standard mission, no? Well, I advise you bring a long-life battery-powered torch, because there be darkness for quite some time. Yep, this chapter's where I start to get a little... Evil. BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Update: This chapter is dedicated to Dodo.123 for pointing out some mistakes for me in chapter 1. (I feel so bad that I forgot about that...)

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Magnus glanced up at him, looking decidedly bored.

"Ah, the Ranger Halt. What may I do for you?"

The King's apparent lack of surprise unnerved him, added onto the disturbing fact that he seemed to know who Halt was. He was used to anonymity. "It has come to the attention of the Ranger Corps of Araluen that you've recently had a string of conquests, and I am merely inquiring as to how far west you intend to advance."

"Yes, yes, I read the letter."

This time, Halt gave an involuntary start. "How?"

"Well, I picked it up and read it. For such a seemingly intelligent man, you are quite stupid."

Halt's hand twitched towards his bow. "Don't play games with a Ranger, _your Majesty_, or you may find yourself on the wrong end of an arrow."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Messages are intercepted, seals are forged. Men become traitors, and are paid well for it."

"Names." Halt's face was set into a stony mask of anger and he unslung his bow from his shoulders, moving to nock an arrow.

"I really don't think you'll be wanting to do that," Magnus said dangerously, and suddenly, the room was in a flurry of motion. Swordsmen, before concealed in secret compartments in the walls and cabinets, leapt out of their hiding places and formed ranks around Halt, hiding their King from view. "Your choice, Ranger. Lower your weapon and surrender now, or my men will take you by force."

"If you know so much about me then you would already know what I'll do next," he muttered, and let loose a volley of arrows. Six men fell an instant later, and their fellows quickly closed ranks, charging fearlessly at the Ranger. Ten more fell lifeless to the floor before the first men were within striking distance, and now Halt was almost backed into a corner. He cursed to himself and threw his bow to the side, whipping out his saxe knife and throwing knife. Dropping quickly to the ground, he rolled through a gap in the wall of the nine remaining men, slashing the tendons on the ankles of two of them as he went. They fell to the ground, clutching the backs of their feet in agony.

Magnus watched the whole proceeding with the calm interest of the slightly insane.

_An expert fighter indeed_, he thought. _Eighteen men out of commission, sixteen of them dead and the other two with injuries that may never heal. I may have to call in some help._ As he thought, another three men went down. Halt had managed to reach his bow again.

The King clapped imperiously and another twenty men poured into the room. Halt fired off a five more shots, and five more men dropped. His quiver now spent, he discarded his bow once more and drew his knifes again.

He darted between the men, inflicting small wounds that wouldn't kill them, but would definitely keep them out of the fight for a while. The men, confused as to how such a small man had felled so many of their best fighters, tended to make even more mistakes. But he was starting to tire, and the dozen or so men still standing were fresh. Halt sheathed his knives, pulled out his strikers and knocked two men out with them, quickly screwing them together and throwing it at the head of a third, who slumped to the ground, also unconscious. He drew his knives again and bared his teeth at the remaining soldiers, launching himself at the nearest man.

Suddenly, Halt found both his knives skidding across the blood-stained stone floor, ending up on top of the thick carpet rug that housed the King's desk. Now, weaponless, he faced nine angry opponents, all with swords. He still did what he could, ducking and rolling to try to reach his knifes again. Seeing that that course of action wasn't much of an option, he cast about the dead bodies for a sword that would be of use and quickly picked it up. He knew that the battle was already lost; he had very little experience with swords, and he was facing nine men who had trained with them their whole lives.

But he could still take as many of them with him as he could. Yet another three men fell before he was once again weaponless, now backed into a corner.

"Gentlemen," King Magnus called, "Please refrain from killing him. I want this one alive."

"More trouble than he's worth, if you ask me," one guard muttered, motioning for his fellows to help him grab the Ranger. Backed in a corner as he was, Halt didn't have much chance of escape. He still struggled viciously against the restraining hands, using all the power in his small, muscled body, and nearly threw off the two men holding him back. A third man hurried to help, then a fourth, and finally they forced the Ranger's hands behind his back, twisting his arms cruelly.

"Well done, Ranger." Magnus got up from behind his desk, his face a mask as he stepped over the bodies of his fallen men. "That was truly a remarkable performance. That's at least eighteen of my men dead or fatally wounded, five or so that will never be knights again, another five unconscious and the rest - other than these six standing in front of me - in some form of excruciating pain." He leaned down, putting his face right into Halt's. "I think that's made their friends just a little angry, don't you?"

"Why? Are they angry that they've seen how inept they are?" Halt spat.

Magnus lashed out, swinging a backhanded blow at his face. The rings adorning his fingers were more than just for show, it seemed, as they tore through the skin on Halt's cheek. Blood quickly began to run down the right hand side of his face from the four deep lacerations the rings had carved. "Be wary of your words when addressing royalty," he hissed, standing and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away some of the skin and blood clinging to his rings. "I think he needs some discipline."

The men fell upon him like savage dogs, beating every bit of him they could reach. One of the men stood off to the side, ready to catch the Ranger if he did somehow break out.

Halt didn't make a single sound.

"Okay, that's enough, now." The men continued the brutal beating. "ENOUGH!" Magnus thundered.

With the men no longer attacking him, Halt slumped to the ground with relief.

"Be begging your pardon, your Majesty. He has just killed many of our comrades in arms and we felt like a little revenge for that."

"Yes, yes, you knights and your chivalry and comradeship and what have you," the King muttered, waving a hand distractedly. "Just get some people in here to clean up this mess." He wrinkled his nose, gesturing at the bodies strewn on the floor, some moaning pitifully, others completely still. "Looks like I'll have to get a new carpet. Nothing will get those bloodstains out.

"And as for our prisoner," he turned his icy gaze back to Halt, who once again had his arms forced behind his back, this time tied in place. "Knock him out and take him to the cell I had prepared for him."

One of the knights, Halt never knew which, stepped forward and slammed the pommel of a sword into the back of his head, sending him into a world of black nothingness.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Yes, Halt can too kill that many people before he gets captured! He's just that awesome. Oh yeah... I got Halt captured. Hehe. People that will now hate me: be warned. I'm armed with a stick.

What? It's all pointy and... stabby. I have little bleeding holes in my hands from when I accidentally poked myself with it to prove it.

...

...

...DON'T JUDGE ME!

-pixie.


	3. Escape

A/N: I'm very sad now. I just realised that my evil smiley doesn't work in posting, and just looks like a regular smiley. It's depressing. :(

But I've been made happy by the fact that I got so many reviews for chapter 2! *tackle-glomps you all*

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Halt returned to consciousness slowly. His whole body throbbed in pain from the bashing he had taken earlier that day - or had it become yesterday? - And the back of his head felt like it had cracked open after the blow that had knocked him unconscious. He had a strange, constricted feeling around his chest every time he breathed, as well as a sharp pain, and he realised that some of his ribs had cracked or broken and had been bandaged. There was a slight scuffle of movement and he turned his head slightly towards it.

The rough cloth of a bandage tightened around his upper left arm, where Halt remembered getting a long, shallow cut from a sweeping sword. It hadn't bled a lot, and was by no means fatal, but given the chance, infection could set in. He allowed whoever it was to continue their ministrations.

Even if he had wanted to stop them he would have been too weak.

He couldn't help wincing slightly as they pulled the knot tight on the bandage. Suddenly, they stilled, possibly fearing that the mysterious man was waking and would attack them. Halt schooled his face into passiveness, shuffling him around a bit as if trying to find a more comfortable position, then settled, breathing deeply and peacefully. He heard them left out a distinctly feminine sigh of relief. A woman then. She gently dabbed at the deep cuts in his cheeks with a wet towel, washing away the worst of the blood. Halt bit back another wince as the water trickled onto the raw flesh, and again when a healing salve was applied.

Vaguely, he wondered why he was getting treatment for his wounds. He was a prisoner, after all. But he didn't have much time to ponder before something else caught his attention.

Whoever the woman was, she seemed to have finished. He heard the sounds of soft cloths being carefully packed into a bag. Making a show of yawning and coming to slowly, Halt gingerly cracked an eye open. She noticed the movement and he only had the slightest glimpse of a surprisingly young face before she had snatched up her things, running to the heavy oak door of his cell and pounding on it. "Please, he's waking up! Let me out!" she cried desperately, relieved when the guard opened the door for her. They closed the door immediately after she was clear.

Halt frowned. He was used to people being a little wary and nervous about Rangers, but not outright terrified as the young woman had been. Did she think he was such a ruthless killer that he would attack a defenceless girl? He sighed. She probably didn't know what to think.

Rumours were flying around the castle, and the events were getting more and more blown out of proportion with every time the story was told. It was only human nature when confronted with a threat, and unfortunately, that would work against him, as there would be more guards placed outside Halt's cell to prevent the people from going into a complete frenzy and starting a riot. It would also make escape harder.

But Abelard was still safe, and he drew comfort from that thought. Slightly cheered despite his predicament, he lapsed back into the realm of sleep.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Shrill neighs of fear roused him from his fitful dreams. Halt was sure it was Abelard. "No..." Painfully, using the rough wall for support, he pulled himself into a position from which he could look from the window. The scene confirmed his suspicions.

Abelard bucked savagely against the men trying to restrain him, all the while neighing for his master. Each whinny tore at his heart, knowing he couldn't help his faithful horse.

Clinging to the bars, he saw his horse slowly but surely being dragged towards the stables, half a dozen men actively trying to subdue the horse's frantic bucking. People paused in the streets, watching with interest as the men struggled with the Ranger horse. Then they finally rounded the corner, out of Halt's sight. He went limp against the bars of the tiny window, eyes resting on a small huddle of people. Voices floated up to him, bouncing along the narrow walls until they reached his ears.

"That's the horse of that archer warrior, isn't it?" asked a woman.

Another female voice answered. "Heard he killed fifty men."

"It'd take a mighty strong horse to do that!" a male scoffed.

"Not the horse, you idiot! The warrior!" The first woman snapped.

"Oh."

A fourth person joined in the conversation, also male. "No no no, I heard it was almost seventy men, with only one quiverful of arrows."

The first man scoffed again. "You can't kill seventy men with one quiverful of arrows!"

"Yes you can," he continued stubbornly. "See, he's gone and lined up the shots so the arrow goes straight through the necks of three men before stopping."

"Say, isn't that him up there?"

Halt felt the gazes of all four people fall on him.

"... Think it'd be best if we were leaving." Light footsteps clattered on the cobblestones as the two women set up a brisk pace.

"They've got a point. I mean sure, he's locked up now, but who's to say he won't escape?"

The other man hastily agreed. "Best not be sticking around and wait for that." Heavier footfalls sounded as the men left.

He did have one thing right. Halt had no intention of staying in the cell. As soon as his strength recovered, he was going to escape.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Dinner was a standard prison affair. A cold, thin and greasy gruel that tasted like wet dirt, complete with gritty clumps. Breakfast and lunch brought no change. Halt only ate it to keep his strength up, and always washed it down with the provided small cup of the bitter water that was particular to the region.

Secretly, he trained in his cell and slowly, he began to regain his strength. All the while, he planned his escape.

The guards outside his prison were on a three hour shift. There were at least two at any given time - an upgrade from the original policy of only having the guards there when escorting servants with food or to check his wounds. That meant things were a little trickier. He would have to time it right. It would have to be long enough after the changeover that the guards were starting to get sleepy, but long enough before the next changeover that his absence wouldn't be noticed immediately. This meant counting the minutes that passed, second by agonising second.

Halt held his breath once he had finished counting. The snores of one guard permeated the thick oak door, and the fact that the other guard hadn't woken him most likely meant that he was asleep as well. Taking out the sliver of wood that he had worked loose from the post of his cot, Halt began to quietly pick the lock.

After a few minutes, he heard a click, and he cautiously swung the door open. His gamble had paid off; both guards were sound asleep.

Walking silently past them, he was glad they had allowed him to keep his soft leather shoes but wished they hadn't taken his Ranger cloak. He felt strangely naked without it.

He never made it out of the castle.

Turning a corner just to see where it would lead - considering he had next to no idea as to how this part of the castle was designed - had ended up with him face to face with a group of startled laundry servants. Before he could react, several of them had dropped their loads and started to shout loudly to alert the guards. He quickly ran in the opposite direction, only to run in to more servants, who also let out cries of alarm. Now, stuck between two confused groups of castle workers, Halt cursed the ill fortune that had led to his escape being in the middle of the laundry rush.

It was all over once the guards arrived. They had heard the shouts of the servants and come to investigate the source of the commotion, to find Halt trapped amongst the wall of castle staff. Weaponless as he was, Halt had no chance as the armed guards cleared their way through the laundry workers, but he put up a fight regardless. Frightened servants quickly scattered as the guards advanced on the escapee, beating him into unconsciousness.

"What do we do with him?"

"Tie him up, take him to the King. He said he had an interest in this prisoner anyway. Maybe we'll get a reward for recapturing him."

The second guard snorted. "Dream on, Liam. When does he ever give us rewards for those sorts of things? More likely he'll punish the lot of us for letting him escape in the first place."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

As he slowly became lucid again, Halt realised he was being carried - dragged, really - down one of the many passages of the Rolingan King's castle, arms firmly tied behind his back and a burly guard on each arm. He knew he wasn't being taken back to his cell. That lay on one of the lower levels, and looking out one of the windows, he could see that the horizon was lower in his vision. The set of stairs suddenly bumping underneath his feet meant they were going even higher.

It was that then Halt realised where the two guards were taking him, and promptly decided that he didn't find the course he was following all that appealing. He tried, futilely, to get out the iron grips encircling his arms, and got a stinging blow that almost knocked him unconscious once more for his troubles. "Don't try to escape again, the King will already be angry at you, and you wouldn't want to make it worse for yourself." The guard grinned nastily. "Actually, go ahead. Maybe we'd get a little more entertainment around here."

They came upon a familiar set of bay doors - the ones that led to the King's office. Pushing them back, the two guards walked in. Magnus looked up from the paperwork that seemed perpetually piled up on his desk and smiled at the sight of Halt hanging between the guards. He stood, slowly walked to the front of his bureau and motioned the guards to come forward.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he murmured, gazing down at the small battered and bound figure that was unceremoniously dumped at his feet. "Tell me, Halt, did you really think you could escape?"


	4. Rescue

A/N: 'Kay, sorry, but this chapter jumps through time a lot. Logically, this shouldn't be possible, but illogically, I have created a magical writer's time machine! Now, let us all jump into the magical time machine and whizz off into the FUTURE! *zoooooom* Or is the past, considering that RA is a medieval based story...? *head explodes from confusion*

.:':. .:':. .:':.

He said nothing.

"Hmm, it would seem that you didn't learn your lesson the first time around. I suppose we'll just have to teach you another." Magnus turned to his guards. "Take him back to his dungeon. Make sure he is physically incapable of escaping again." The guards nodded, picked Halt up off the ground and dragged him back to his prison.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Halt was in unbearable agony. Every fibre of his body screamed in pain, for mercy, but the torture was unrelenting. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than a few hours without waking up to the savage beatings inflicted upon him. They were never prolonged, only a few minutes each time. If they had been any longer, Halt would have already been dead. He was in constant fear that one guard would take it too far, and beat the life from him, but what scared him most was that he knew salvation was impossibly far away. It had only been just over a month since he had first left Araluen, and his mission had called for him to be away for three. It would be two more long, agonising months for Halt before anyone even realised that something had gone wrong.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Will was pacing in front of the tents. Gilan watched him, worried. "Two weeks ago, Gilan. He was supposed to have been back two weeks ago. And you know he wouldn't miss a Gathering if he could help it."

He shrugged helplessly. "There might have been some sort of complication. Rough seas, perhaps." They both knew it was a lie. Halt was the sort of person that would swim the whole way and still somehow make it. "And Crowley only said about three months in the letter you showed me. That leaves a margin for movement. I know, we can go ask Crowley himself."

"Ask me what?" The Corps Commandant seemed to materialise from the shadows between the tents. Gilan tried to act like he wasn't surprised. Will was too absorbed in his pacing.

Gilan cleared his throat. "Will's worried about Halt."

"So am I. I really only meant the three months I gave him as a maximum, for taking into account any possible delays; Halt would know that. And as you said, he wouldn't miss a Gathering if there was anything he could do about it."

"Please, Crowley," Will had stopped pacing and leapt upon the opportunity. "Let me go look for him."

Crowley sighed. "Give it a full month from when he should have arrived back. Then you can go. I'll try to organise something in your absence."

Will nodded, although he fervently wished he could go in search of his mentor as soon as possible. "Thank you, Crowley."

"Wait the full month before you leave," he warned. "Not a day less."

He smiled grimly. "And not a day more. Thank you again." He moved off.

"Was that really wise, Crowley? Letting him go off like that?"

"It was the best thing I could do in this situation. We don't want him doing what Halt did so he could search for the boy in Skandia."

Gilan nodded wisely. "I don't think anyone would want a repeat of that, least of all Halt."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The weeks had come and gone, and there was no sign of Halt. Finally, the day came when Will could leave to find his mentor.

"I'm going in search for Halt, my lord," he told Baron Arald. "My replacement is already at my cottage. He has been waiting a few years for an older Ranger to retire since his graduation, so has not had a fief of his own as of yet, but has filled many temporary roles such as this and is a fairly experienced Ranger. Call him up when you wish to speak with him. I should return with Halt in a few months."

The Baron smiled grimly. "Bring him back safe, Will. But take care of yourself as well. We don't want to lose either of you."

Will's smile was equally grim. "Thank you, my lord." And with the way peculiar to Rangers, he disappeared without a sound.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

He had been riding for three days now, and finally reached the Araluen shore. Bartering passage across the Narrow Sea didn't take much effort; it would take a brave man to refuse one of the most famous of Araluen's Rangers.

The days at sea all blended into one another, blurring so much he couldn't tell one day from the next. He had no idea how long he had been on the ship for when it pulled into a small Gallican port. Pausing in the tiny hamlet only to get some fresh supplies and a few hours rest, Will was soon astride Tug again, heading inexorably east.

Travelling through Gallica, a brief venture through Toscano, and journeying through Alpina and Aslava finally brought Will to the country of Rolingan. Alpina and Aslava had already fallen to Magnus, but there seemed to be no preparations for war in any of their neighbours. Perhaps it was taken with a weary acceptance that Rolingan had gathered too much power to be opposed now.

Will rose from the bed in the room he had hired the night before, pleased to find that he hadn't been bitten by fleas or other bed bugs. Silent as a shadow, he slipped downstairs, paid for breakfast for both himself and Tug. He ate quickly, eager to be on the road again in search of Halt. Asking around had gotten him few answers; the people of Rolingan were highly suspicious and tight-lipped. Resorting to spending long, weary hours at a table nestled into a corner of various inns, he heard the rumours of a great archer warrior imprisoned in the King's castle, and that he had killed over a hundred men before being subdued. If he wasn't so worried, Will would have found the preposterousness of the stories funny. But knowing Halt had been captured helped immensely, even if the news itself was worrying; now, at least, Will knew where to look for his mentor.

Castle Rolingan first came into Will's sight just after midday, and he was glad he would soon be reunited with Halt. Bone weary, he allowed himself a few hours rest at a local tavern to recover some strength before setting to infiltrating the castle that night.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Scaling the walls was painfully easy. The sentries were complacent, as seemed the norm for any castle. Will knew that Halt's prison would be guarded, and there was always the chance that he might not spring Halt quietly enough that no one would be alerted to the fact the prisoner was escaping; it seemed that the best course of action was to persuade the King to let Halt go.

And by persuade, he meant threaten.

Locating the King's office had taken some time, and even as he climbed over the windowsill, he still wasn't sure he was in the right room. Then he took in the ornately carved cabinets standing against the opposing walls, their glossy finish apparent even in the gloom, and heard the muffled breathing of the men concealed in compartments in the wooden walls cleverly painted to seem like stone. Footsteps approached outside the door just to the left of Will, and he quietly hid himself in the shadow of one of the cabinets. The King strode into the room, a few servants scurrying in behind him to light the various candles on his desk and to stoke the dying fire.

Will waited until they had left and the King had made himself comfortable behind his desk before he made his move. He stepped out of the shadows, bowstring drawn, an arrow nocked and pointing squarely at the centre of the man's chest. "I believe you have something I want."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Yay, Will to the rescue! *superhero music*


	5. Hired

Watery blue eyes looked up with disinterest at Will. Nothing about his appearance spoke of power; he looked to be a little under average height, and any muscle was hidden by fat. The washed-out colour of his eyes softened their true hardness. He looked like an indulgent scholar. However, an air of authority and malevolence draped him as heavily as Will was draped by his Ranger's cloak.

"Ah, of course. I was wondering when you would get here. I almost didn't think you were coming. The famous Ranger's apprentice Will, come to rescue his master," he sneered, the pale blue turning icy. "How predictable. How pathetic."

Will didn't waver. "How do you know who I am?"

The King's face lit up with a savage grin, looking like an avenging angel with his halo of fine white hair. "That's for me to know, and for you not to know." The truth was, his family had been operating a spy ring in Araluen - and in fact almost every other known country - for generations. As a result, many of the spies had been born in the country they were spying on. Accepted by the other villagers as locals, they would be told things no stranger would, then report back to the head spy of the village. The head spy would, in turn, send word back to the headquarters by messenger bird and encrypted letters. But Will was not to know that.

"Since you already know why I'm here, tell me where Halt is." Will pulled the bowstring a little tighter. The man was unfazed - his smile just grew wider.

"I don't think I will. And if you do let that arrow go, you're a dead man. I have more than thirty men hidden in this room that won't hesitate to kill you if you attack me. It's only on my orders that you are still standing right now."

Face still shrouded in the shadow of his cowl, Will's eyes quickly darted around the room again, rechecking his earlier assessment. "Twenty of them in concealed compartments in the walls of the room, two in each of those three cabinets, four behind the curtain set, one behind the door to the left of your desk and several more stationed outside the bay doors." Will counted them off casually. "Anyone I missed, _Your Majesty_?"

"Well done, all accounted for." He gave Will a few slow, sardonic claps. "Now that you know how many there are, why don't you put down that bow of yours?"

Will smiled coldly. "I can fell a dozen swordsmen with it in a matter of seconds. I hardly think it would be a challenge."

"Ah, yes, but these aren't swordsmen. These are crossbowmen."

He closed his eyes in anger and lowered his longbow. In these close quarters, there would be almost no chance of him coming out the victor. "I'm listening."

Magnus smiled. "I am glad you've come around to my way of thinking. Please, take a seat."

"I'd rather stand," he replied stiffly, still holding the arrow lightly against his bow.

He shrugged, sinking further into his plush own chair. "As you wish."

"Where's Halt?" Will asked in a low voice.

"The old man? He's fine, more or less."

"Stop avoiding the question. Where is he?" Will's fingers twitched, ready to draw the bow at a moment's notice.

The King sighed. "Very well." He clapped loudly and Will tensed as he heard footsteps outside the small door that he had noted earlier as being guarded. It suddenly flew open, two burly figures shoving through, carrying a smaller body between them. The diminutive figure was dressed in a grubby tunic, his hands bound securely behind his back, feet hobbled and a filthy gag shoved in his mouth. Dried blood matted his hair and obscured most of the left side of his face. Any piece of skin that wasn't covered in blood was covered in bruises. His ribs showed clearly through the thin weave of his clothes that clung to him, wet and sticky with blood. The tattered remains of soiled bandages hung loose around his chest and arms. It was obvious that the guards holding onto his arms weren't doing so because they thought he might try to escape, but because he would have collapsed otherwise. He lifted his head painfully, struggling to see Will clearly with one eye so puffy it was almost closed, and the other almost blinded by blood. When he did recognise the young Ranger, he started bucking and twisting violently, trying in vain to spit out the gag. All his actions were useless, and used up the little energy he had left.

"Halt..." Will stumbled forward at the sight of his mentor in such a poor state, and immediately there was a flurry of action. Men that had been concealed in compartments in the walls and various places around the room leapt out, training their crossbows on the young Ranger. There was a flash of steel and one of the burly guards pressed a knife to Halt's throat. Halt's own saxe knife, Will noticed with consternation.

Reluctantly, Will took a few steps back again, placed the arrow back in the quiver and slung the bow over his shoulder, holding out his now empty hands in a supplicating manner. In turn, the crossbowmen lowered their weapons.

"Now, we have a bargaining chip, as it were, one that is obviously of high value to you. Let us talk." The 'bargaining chip' in question strained away from the blade being held at his throat.

"I'm listening," Will replied through gritted teeth.

The King gave a small smile. "Why don't you take off that hood of yours? I feel impolite to be talking to someone when I can't see their eyes." Will angrily tossed back the hood.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Tsk, tsk." Magnus waggled his finger infuriatingly at Will, showing no sign of surprise at his obvious youth. "So rude. But at least you're to the point." He glanced over at Halt, still trying to move away from the knife that had been biting slightly into the skin of his throat, a single thread of fresh blood trailing from near the edge of the blade. He made an impatient gesture. "For goodness' sake, man, get that knife away from his throat! I think the young gentleman here has gotten the message that we'll kill his friend if he doesn't comply." Shaking his head at the ineptness of his guard, he turned back to Will. "Sorry about that," he said mildly. "Now, as you are a Ranger, I would most pleased if you were to offer me your services as a fighter."

"I'm still an apprentice. And Rangers are not mercenaries."

"No, of course not." He smiled, lacing his fingers. "Your talents aren't as mundane as that. But please remember, your friend's life is at stake. You would hardly want him dying for your pride, would you?" Mock concern laced his words.

Will regarded him angrily. "If you needed a Ranger, why didn't you use Halt? He has seniority over me and is far more skilled. In fact, as I've already pointed out, I haven't even graduated yet."

"That may be so, but he went down fighting. Killed a good number of my swordsmen. That's why I now have crossbowmen. Much more effective, as I see - no deaths this time around. When he woke up, he was in a state one would consider most unhealthy, but still tried again to escape. Of course, that made his injuries worse. Also, we had no leverage to convince him to work for us, whereas with you, he is the leverage. And - Halt, did you say his name was? - is far older than you are. True, he may be fit now, but in a few years he'll be useless." He ignored the indignified snort from Halt. "You, on the hand, are young and in good shape. You'll be able to serve me for many years to come."

"I'll do what you want, just don't kill Halt." Will's teeth were clenched so tightly he was surprised none of them had broken yet. Halt's muffled protests went largely unnoticed by everyone except Will, who didn't want to meet his mentor's eyes, didn't want to see the disappointment that would surely be there.

"Excellent." The smile he gave Will was unpleasant in the extreme. "It's reassuring to have a man of your obvious skill as an assassin." He clicked his finger at one of the guards and pointed at Will. "You. Relieve our guest of his weapons." Will angrily submitted to the frisk search, wary of the many crossbowmen surrounding him.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

He stood and bowed mockingly. "King Magnus the First, ruler of Rolingan, at your service." The King held out his hand.

"I know that!" he snapped, slapping the proffered hand away. "Do you take me for an idiot? Who are you that you have the audacity to try and hire an Araluan Ranger as an assassin!"

Magnus blinked innocently, then threw Will's words back in his face. "And who are _you_ to have the audacity to barge into a King's palace, demand he hand over a valuable prisoner, and threaten said King's life? Be glad I have use for you, or I would have had you executed for your _audacity_." he finished acidly, all pretence of innocence gone. "Fendrel, Tyron, please escort our two Araluan friends to their quarters. See that a maid is sent with warm water and towels so that Mister Halt can get a little bit cleaned up. It won't do to have him dripping blood all over my floors. Oh, and please make sure that the other members of the guard stop paying Mister Halt their little 'visits'. I think he's learned his lesson." He added, indicating the blood, cuts and bruises adorning the grizzled Ranger's body. The two guards holding onto Halt's arms nodded, moving forward and indicating to Will that he should walk in front of them. He, like Halt, was dwarfed by their muscled forms.

The King called out a final scathing remark at Will's back as he was marched off. "And don't forget, Ranger, that I didn't need to _try_ to hire you as an assassin. It was hardly a challenge at all."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Huh, they're BOTH captured now, and Halt's been beaten up really badly... Haha. Don't you just hate me? XD But don't worry. It gets worse. Yeah, be very afraid as to what I mean by that. *laughs maniacally*

-pixie.


	6. An Unwilling Assassin

A/N: So, we have a lot of Magnus hate going on at the moment, which is good, because that's what I was aiming for. Thank you for everyone who's being supportive of this fic. Love you all. On with the chapter!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Halt?" Will asked softly. "Halt, I'm so sorry."

He didn't turn around. "You should have let them kill me. _I _would have let them kill me."

"But you wouldn't have let them kill me, if our places were switched."

Halt glared at him as much as he could through his puffy and bloodstained eyes. "That's different."

Will shook his head, reaching for the cloth and bowl of water. "No, Halt, it's the same." He gently daubed at the blood on the left side of Halt's face. It showed how little strength that Halt had left in the almost complete lack of protest to Will's ministrations. "Halt, what have they done to you?" he asked softly as the water in the bowl quickly turned a vibrant red.

"Just a few beatings," he muttered weakly. "I've had worse."

"But you've sure had a lot better."

Having cleaned Halt's wounds as best as he could, Will set aside the towel. It had been white when he had started; now, it was a deep, mottled pink. With a slight rise of bile, he realised it looked like a miniaturised, pink version of a Ranger cloak. He gazed at Halt, angered and shocked by the condition his mentor was in. His skin was a patchwork of colours, the fresh and fading bruises and the numerous cuts forming a grotesque rainbow. The familiar salt and pepper hair had only a few hints of black left - all the rest had turned a greyish-white. All in all, Halt seemed a shrunken figure.

"So much for a rescue mission," Will murmured. "Now we're both prisoners."

The door suddenly banged open, a timid servant with a tray of food held in front of him. Guards armed with razor-tipped spears stood grimly at the door. One of them reached out and shoved the servant roughly, nearly causing him to spill his load on the floor. "Dinner," the guard spat contemptuously.

Hurriedly, the servant placed the tray on the very edge of Halt's bed, then scurried back to the safety of the guards. They looked at him scornfully. "Don't be such a nervous fool. Without those sticks they call bows and their silly little toothpick daggers, they can't hurt anyone." He spat again, and all three men left the room.

Halt gazed at the food. It was still the same standard prison affair; a jug of water and a bowl of lumpy grey gruel, only this time there were two jugs and bowls, one for each of them. Still being too weak to get the food himself, Halt waited patiently for Will to hand him his share.

Will gulped down the water gratefully. He ignored its bitter taste; he had been in Rolingan long enough to know that the before sinking underground where the wells tapped into them, the rivers rushed over the rocks in the north, picking up a chemical that turned its taste bitter. It might have made the water less enjoyable to ingest, but it was harmless. The bitterness was more pronounced than he was used to, but he reasoned that the wells were deeper near the palace and would reach the water more affected by the chemical. Halt took a sip from his cup as well, more controlled than his apprentice even though he was immeasurably thirstier. He knew that if King Magnus had intended to kill them, they would both already be dead, but he simply wanted to make the water last. In his months imprisoned here after his failed escape attempt, he had learned this much: there was a long wait between each time food was supplied.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Sleep did not come easily to Halt that night; the constant fear that he would wake up to a beating now extended to fear the same would happen to his apprentice.

But the next morning, for the first time in a long time, he woke without the added pain of freshly inflicted wounds, and found a tray of food and water at the end of his bed. He looked over at Will, who was sitting in a curled up position on his bed and staring blankly into space, his own food untouched. "Will?" he asked softly.

The apprentice in question jumped violently at the noise. "Wha-? Oh, sorry Halt." He sighed and buried his head into his arms. "I'm so sorry."

Halt limped over to him, patting him awkwardly on the back. He opened his mouth, but then closed it, not really knowing what he could say to comfort Will. Finally figuring out something to say, Halt opened his mouth again but was interrupted by the thick oak door of their prison crashing open. Two guards pushed their way into the room, leering nastily at the captives.

"Old man, get off the titch! We're taking him to His Majesty," one of the guards snarled at Halt. Knowing that not moving would almost certainly end in receiving another serious injury, he reluctantly stood up and hobbled towards his own bed. The guard gave him a shove, and he fell to the ground with a grunt. Ignoring their jeering laughs, Halt dragged himself the rest of the way to his bed before collapsing onto it. He only managed to catch a glimpse of Will's worried face before the door was slammed shut again, leaving him utterly alone.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The guards stopped outside the big bay doors to the King's office. "In you go. He's waiting," one of them growled.

Will nodded nervously.

Rolling his eyes, the guard who had spoken pushed the doors open, shoving Will through them and slamming them shut behind his back.

Magnus smiled , steepling his fingers. "Come here, Will."

Reluctantly he stepped forward. "Now, pick up that piece of paper with your name on it, there's a good boy." Will obligingly picked up the paper. "Your first assignment." His eyes quickly scanned the page.

"The person you want me to kill is just a farmer."

His smiled widened. "Of course. You didn't think I'd give you a big target first off, did you?" It made a sick sort of sense. He took Will's silence as an answer. "Of course not.

"Fendrel, bring in my assassin's belongings, please." One of the guards soon appeared, carrying a grey-green bundle under his arm.

All of Will's possessions were returned to him; his Ranger's cloak, his bow, his quiver and arrows, his knives, his strikers. They felt wrong in his hands, as if they knew he was going to be using them for bad things. He wanted to put them down and refuse to kill anyone, or take them, find Tug and run away, but he had no way of knowing what they would do to Halt if he left.

Seeming to able to read his thoughts, Magnus told him calmly, "Remember, if you don't kill the man, you and your friend will both die. That isn't a threat. It's a promise."

_Well, now you know_, Will thought grimly, and with a slight rise of bile in his throat, Will swung his cloak around his shoulders, arranged his weapons on his person and set off to commit murder.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Will stood in the shadow in one of the outer alleys of the main town. He could see the man he was supposed to kill clearly; he was labouring over several large bags of flour, a few farmhands waiting patiently in the cart as the load was hauled up to them. For perhaps a minute he just watched, putting off the moment he knew was coming for as long as he could. One of the boys shouted something at the man, perhaps telling him to hurry with the bags. The sun was setting, and they would want to be well underway before it sank under the horizon. Swallowing dryly, he fit an arrow to his bow. He felt the muscles in his back bunch as he drew the bowstring, automatically sighting the shot he would take.

But he didn't release the arrow.

He just stood there, shaking and sweating, bowstring taut, knowing that he couldn't hold position like that forever. Sooner or later, he would have to either drop the bow or let the arrow fly._ Remember, if you don't kill the man, you and your friend will both die._ Magnus' voice echoed through his head. Will swallowed again, steadied his hand, and let go of the bowstring.

The man was too far away for there to be a chance that Will would get blood on himself, or even for him to hear the shocked cries of the cart boys, for which he was glad. It was already bad enough that he had to see the anguish on their faces and in their movements.

Regardless, he felt horrible after he saw the man drop. Tainted. True, he had killed before, but that was always in battle, or when protecting himself or someone else. That was killing. This was murder.

Assassination.


	7. Aftermath

A/N: And now, the reason that this story is in the category it's in: angsting! Yay!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Will slowly made his way back to the castle, dragging his feet as much as he could. The image of the man jerking suddenly as the arrow exploded through his chest, the stiffness as his punctured heart stopped beating, and the slow, slow crumple to the ground as his body ceased to have the capacity to hold him upright played over and over in front of him. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, but the scene seemed to be imprinted on his mind, and he suspected it would stay there for a long time to come.

But of course, the walk couldn't take forever. All too soon he found himself at the door to Magnus' office, waiting to be admitted inside. Sweat beaded on his brow as the minutes crawled by under the imposing glare of the guards.

Finally, mercifully, the door was opened by one of the internal guards and Will stepped into the King's office.

"Well?"

His voice shook. "He's dead. Are you satisfied?"

Magnus simply nodded. "I'll give you your next assignment tomorrow. For now, you should get some rest." Will left without a sound, unsure if there had been an undercurrent of amusement in Magnus' voice. He was fairly sure the king knew that Will would be unable to rest. And he was definitely sure that his next target would also be a simple villager, and that it would be just as hard for him to kill them.

He was right.

Every day brought a new 'assignment'. There was a growing ache in Will's heart as he was torn in two directions. He didn't want to be killing innocent people, but he couldn't let Halt die either.

He just couldn't.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"I hate this. I'm an unwilling assassin." Will's lips twisted in a parody of a smile at the play of words on his name.

Halt stared his apprentice straight in the eyes. "Then don't do it. Let them kill us, or at least try to escape. Just leave me behind."

Will smiled sadly. "Have you really lost hope, Halt?"

The grizzled Ranger shook his head. "No. But a Ranger's duty is to the King and his people. We put ourselves last, you know that. The people you are murdering may not be under Duncan's rule, but they're still people, Will! Is there anyone that's worth killing so many others for? You're not saying anything. Because you know what the answer is, don't you? There is no one. And definitely not me."

"I know, I just... can't bring myself to be the cause of your death. I would never forgive myself."

Halt used what little strength he had recovered to reach up, grab Will by the shoulders and shake him. "Dammit, Will! The people you're killing have done nothing to you, and it's more than likely they never would have! They don't deserve this!"

"At least if I kill them, their death is instantaneous!" he retorted. "If I'm not the one killing them, Magnus will just hire someone else, and they probably wouldn't be very merciful!" He fell back a bit and sat down on his bed with a thump, deflated. "God knows why he didn't just do that in the first place. He has control over the Genovesans."

"He's probably forced you into this situation because he is sadistic and corrupt, and, if you hadn't noticed, more than a little bit off his rocker! He'll find satisfaction in the fact that he was able to 'tame' a Ranger." The emphasis was bitter. "Professional assassins have hearts as hard as stone to be able to live with themselves for all the murders they commit. Do you want to become that?" he demanded. "A heartless killing machine?"

"No, but what choice do I have? I can't let you die when I can still save you, Halt. It would weigh more heavily on me than anything else."

He slumped back onto the bed, the little amount of energy he had regained spent. "Until you realise that I'm not worth it, there 's nothing I can do for you, Will," he said quietly, turning himself to face the wall.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

After the Gathering, Crowley had had to go on his own mission, and was only now returning to his fief. It had been two months since he had let Will go on a search for Halt. He knew the King would be angry with him; a Ranger's duty was to his country first and to himself last, but he had feared that Will would have done something completely irrational in order to go find his mentor otherwise. The boy was fiercely loyal, he had to give him that.

As soon as he rode in to the courtyard of Castle Araluen, he was accosted by one of the staff demanding that he go see the King. "Be careful in there," he warned. "The King is very displeased with you at the moment."

"I'll note that," Crowley muttered, quickly brushing down his horse before making his way to the King's office. Considering the situation, he felt it more prudent to knock than to just let himself in like he usually did.

"Come in, Crowley." The Ranger smiled grimly as he opened the door, padding silently over to the chair that King Duncan indicated for him. "I take it that you know why you're here?"

"Yes I do, Your Majesty. It's about me letting Will go to Rolingan to find Halt two months ago."

Duncan sighed, nodding. "You realise that by doing so, both you and Will were defying me?"

Lacing his fingers, Crowley said carefully, "Yes, I'm well aware of that. But I think, Your Majesty, it was one of those situations where one has to do wrong to prevent a greater wrong. If I hadn't let Will go, he would almost certainly have done something foolish so he could leave anyway. I'm sure you remember what Halt did so he could search for the boy in Skandia."

A brief flicker of a smile flitted across Duncan's face. "I don't think I'll ever forget some of those insults. Quite colourful, weren't they?"

Crowley nodded, unsure of whether or not to smile as well. Considering his usual grim countenance, he opted to keep his face stoic.

The King let out a breath. "Well, Crowley, I'll forgive you this time around. Just try not to let it happen again." There was another flash of a grin. "They're two of our greatest Rangers, you know that. For your sake, you better hope they both come back in one piece."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"I still don't get it," he said brokenly. "Why me?"

"He's crazy, Will!" Halt exploded. "He doesn't need a reason!" Resting his hands on his apprentice's shoulders, he said slowly and calmly, "The next assignment he gives you, run. Find a way back to Araluen. Tell the others I'm dead - I probably will be by then anyway. Get yourself out of here." Will wouldn't meet his eyes. "Will? If you stay, we're both dead. Magnus will lose interest in toying with you. Please, do this for me."

Will opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the guards opening the door. They always did seem to have impeccable timing. "New assignment," one of them grunted, pulling Will to his feet. Halt watched helplessly as Will was ushered out the door.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

His hands shook as he pushed the door open. The assassination hadn't taken long; it never did. But despite the fact that he was always at such a distance that there was no chance of him getting blood on himself, he felt as if he was drenched in the stuff. And now he had directly disobeyed Halt's wishes. He just couldn't bring himself to leave his mentor somewhere where he would almost definitely be killed.

The guards, impatient as always, pushed him into the cell, the door thumping shut behind him. He shrunk under Halt's glare. "I told you to leave," he grated.

Will was silent, too ashamed to say anything.

"I'm disappointed in you, Will," he whispered, and it hurt Will more than any amount of shouting ever could have.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: 'Kay, I'm going to be even MORE evil now! "Is that even possible? You've got poor Will killing people, and Halt being subsequently pissed off with him!" you all shout in a deafening cacophony (which, of course, kinda freaks me out that you all say the exact same thing at the exact same time).

But the answer is: yes. And here's how.

I have three endings, which are all really cool (if I do say so myself). A happy ending, a sad ending, and a super-sad ending. Problem is, they're all so awesomely awesome that I can't choose between them! So, I'll have a poll. And this poll will be completely blind - as in, choices numbered 1, 2, and 3, but you don't know which is which. So, you can just put the number you want in your review, or vote for it on the poll on my profile, or do both. You can vote in every review, and I accept votes from anonymous reviewers. Choose a number and tremble with PHEAR! But seriously. Vote. Regardless of which ending is picked, there will be the same number of chapters. Do I have to say it again? VOTE.

-pixie.


	8. A Downward Spiral of Death

A/N: *coughs out the reviews she swallowed after being buried under said reviews* 14 reviews? 14 REVIEWS? I freaking LOVE you guys! Seriously, all the support is great - I never thought I'd get that many reviews for a single chapter! *squeezes you all in a death-hug* And thanks for voting for the ending as well! *hugs you again* All the reviews motivated me to post this next chapter super quick (and I should be studying for my School Certificate Trials right now instead of writing... But as if I would be doing that even if I wasn't updating this. :P)

So anyway, with this one, I wanted to show the reactions of the people close to Will and Halt back in Araluen, but don't worry, there's still plenty of Will and Halt. :) Oh, and just a warning: this jumps around time and place more than a highly caffeinated eight-year-old on a teleporting time machine pogo stick.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Crowley?"

He sighed. "Yes Gilan."

"I'm worried about them."

"...I know. Why else would you be here?" His eyes looked haunted. "But it's been near three months now since Will left, and almost seven for Halt.

"We have to face it. They're most probably dead."

"Don't say that."

"Gilan, I know it's upsetting, but it's-"

"I said don't." He glared at his Commandant with bloodshot eyes.

Crowley held up his hands defensively. He knew Gilan was taking this just about the worst of any of the Rangers; Will and Halt were his two closest comrades. "I'm sorry, Gilan. But I can see you're here for more than to just tell me you're worried about Halt and Will - I already knew that. You want to go after them, don't you?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry Gilan, you can't go." He held up a finger to silence his protests. "Halt and Will are among our most talented Rangers. One Ranger for one crisis, Gilan. If those two can't cut the muster, there'll be no chance for you. I'm sorry. I...I miss them too. But it would be foolish to try to go after them." Looking Gilan straight in the eye, he continued, "If you decide to go anyway, you will be permanently stripped of your Ranger status. Do you think Halt would want that?"

Reluctantly, he shook his head.

He rubbed a hand over his tired face. "I am sorry, Gilan. If not for our duty, I would have already gone myself to go find them, but I can't. Go back home."

The younger Ranger's shoulders slumped. "Can't say I didn't try," he murmured as much to Crowley as to himself. Dejectedly, he mounted Blaze and set off back towards his fief, no matter how much he wished to turn to the east coast.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Days had faded into weeks, then months, until almost a year had passed since Halt had first been captured. Will's assassinations became a mechanised process, and so he was able to disconnect himself from the murders. Dimly, some part of him wondered what sort of person you had to be to have this many enemies. But he shrugged it off; he had gone from being an unwilling assassin to being an unthinking assassin. Among the people, he had become a figure of abject terror, often called the Shadow of the Night for the way he would never be seen as more than a mere flicker, a glimpse in the gathering dusk. Mothers used the terrifying figure to frighten children into obedience - "be back well before sundown, or the Shadow of the Night will get you!" - and indeed, anyone on the streets near dark was deemed a fool.

But then, of course, Will had to start to strike during the day.

No one was safe. At least, that was what the people seemed to think. None had made the connection that all those being killed had in some way displeased the King - Magnus chose Will's victims for such petty things, like not bowing quickly enough as he rode by, and they were too ridden with grief to notice. There were very few who didn't know someone that Will had killed.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

There was a timid knock on the door. "Lady Pauline?"

"Come in."

The shy face of one of the castle servants peeked through the door. "Begging your pardon. Miss Alyss won't leave her chambers, and I thought you would be best to convince her to come out, being her mentor and all."

She nodded tersely, sweeping out the door, walking a little more stiffly than she usually did. The servant scurried off, knowing that Pauline knew the way to Alyss' room. It took every ounce of willpower for her not to break into a run; she was certain she knew exactly what was wrong with her apprentice. She'd had the same problem for about four months.

"Alyss, it's Pauline. May I come in?"

A few muffled bangs sounded from behind the door, then a red-eyed Alyss appeared in front of Pauline.

Suddenly, she found her arms full with a sobbing apprentice, whom she quickly wrapped in a hug. "Shh," she crooned, leading Alyss to sit on her bed and closing the door behind them. "What's the matter?" she asked gently, even though she already knew the answer.

Alyss sniffed a few times rubbing her nose. "It's just... He was supposed to be back already. It's been two weeks since he was meant to be back. What if something happened?"

"You know there could have been all sorts of complications. Raids on the ports could mean that there are no seaworthy ships that could bring him home, for example."

"But he promised he'd be back!" she sobbed, clinging to Pauline's back. "He promised me he wouldn't be back late, he wouldn't let anything stop him." Pauline patted her head soothingly, not letting her apprentice see her own tears. Halt had made her a similar promise when he had left.

"He will be back. Whatever he's gotten himself into, he'll find a way out of it."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"So Will, have you been to the stables recently? Checked up on Tug and Abelard?" Halt forced the words out. It had become harder to talk to Will, mainly because his complete lack of motivation for anything besides assassination.

His apprentice stared at him blankly. "Who?"

Halt sighed for perhaps the millionth time. He was worried, very worried; how could Will forget who Tug and Abelard were? Had he really drawn in on himself so much that he could forget something like that?

It had gotten to the point now where Halt resented Will's company. No, that wasn't true; he resented Non-Will's company. For that is what he had dubbed the person now lying on the bed opposite him. Gone was the bright, cheerful boy that had been his apprentice, and in his place, a mindless, numb, killing machine. It just wasn't Will anymore. He almost wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him and demand that he return the real Will. The worst of it was that essentially, he was the reason Will was this way. If he had been able to convince his apprentice to leave, he wouldn't now be the unthinking assassin he was.

The days seemed to drag on and on with no real end, and only the changing of the sky from dark to light assured him that any time was passing. Will drifted in and out of Halt's existence, now almost perpetually on 'missions'. Halt had scoffed at the phrase. "Assassination is assassination, Will. Mission is a bit of a tame way to refer to it." But as was now the norm, Will ignored him.

Time had little meaning to Halt now. He had no idea how long he had been imprisoned for. It had been more than a year since he had last seen Araluen, but he had no way to know that. There was very little temperature change in Rolingan, and Halt couldn't see any trees from the small prison window, so couldn't tell how many seasons had passed, and had given up on counting days long ago. He was almost certain, however, that everyone back home would think that both he and Will were dead.

He still exercised as best as he could, what with being confined to his cell at all times, but it was more habitual than anything. On his worst days, he wondered if this small remnant of normality was the only thing that kept him sane.

Unhappily, he drifted into the realm of sleep, and in the morning woke up to an empty room. Will was out doing his 'work' again.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Still no word of him?"

Jenny shook her head, worry creasing her brow. "No."

Horace frowned. "It isn't like him to be late like this. Something must have happened."

"That's what we all think," Jenny said glumly, her usual exuberance gone. "... Alyss is taking it worst, I think. She's barely left her room all week, according to the servants. I went to see her yesterday, but she wouldn't let me in."

He thumped a fist angrily into the wooden post in front of him, which of course resulted in a sore hand. "I hate not being allowed to go and find him! He's done so much for Araluen. We'd all be speaking Scotti by now if it wasn't for him. Where's the justice in this?"

Sighing, Jenny patted his arm, trying to calm him. "Horace, whatever he's gotten himself into, he'll get out of it. You know Will. He wouldn't let anything stop him from getting home."

Rubbing a weary hand over his face, he said, "I know. I'm just... worried.

"What if something really bad has happened?"

.:':. .:':. .:':.

At first, Magnus had set Will up to murdering common people that he decided had quarrel with him, but soon sent him to assassinate bigger targets. Lords and ladies opposed to the King started to drop like flies, and many of the townsfolk went into a frenzy of fear. Sleazy dealers set up their ramshackle carts with potions and amulets, claiming their wares would ward off the 'terrible demon' that was the Shadow of the Night. The gullible flocked to them, hanging the fake charms above their doors and strewing whatever vile concoctions the peddlers brewed up around their homes.

All the while, he had drifted further and further away from his mentor, to the point where they now barely even spoke, or acknowledged each other's presence. Will was killing more and more people, but it was becoming less and less about protecting Halt from harm. It was almost a mechanised function for him now.

Things escalated at an alarming pace, until Magnus assigned him to kill a target so well known and so powerful that any other assassin would have refused to kill.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Dun dun dun! Yay, cliffie. Who's he gonna kill? I know, of course, but you don't. :P Have fun trying to figure it out.

P.S: You never will.

-pixie.


	9. Missions

A/N: Hehe, sorry that I took forever to update. Especially with that cliffie (well, maybe not a cliffie. More of a small-ridge-that-wouldn't-kill-you-or-break-any-bones-if-you-fell-off-it-but-it'd-still-hurt-if-you-did...ie. ;P) My craptop had to go in for repairs (the computer guy said it had the worst case of hinge damage he'd ever seen. Well, it _was_ only being held on by the optic cables... my bad) and was supposed to be given back to me before the school holidays, but it wasn't. And it had all my stories and all my notes for my stories on it. Then just yesterday I realised I'd made a back up that I'd forgotten about. *sweat drop* So I finished this chapter and posted it as quick as I could, just for you guys.

P.S: This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful **Seditious Dragon**. Your consistent reviews and general support of this fic and of my writing are truly heart-warming. I thank you. *bows to Seditious Dragon*P.S.S: I got a review regarding Halt's level of emotion towards the situation from **Iceqbz**. I'm in no way condemning them for the review, in fact I want to thank them for taking the time to give me constructive criticism on the matter. Frankly I'm surprised no one mentioned it sooner. I fully understand why you feel that way (and I suspect others that are too shy to say so feel the way you do too). But I did have a reason for keying it down.

In my mind, Halt isn't someone who deals with his emotions a lot. Even in the series, he doesn't express himself emotionally very often. As such, when in a situation like this, he'd have little to no idea how to deal on an emotional level. I think it's most likely I he'd go into denial (hence why I used the whole 'Non-Will' bit). So I hope that that explains it for you, and if not, then I hope you enjoy the rest of the story regardless. :)

And also, can I just say thank you for wording it so politely. Rather than flaming, you asked politely. With the amount of people who are just genuinely nasty on this site, it's good to know that there are people like you who will be nice about it.

Okay, enough of my blabbering. On with the fic!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Ah, Will. My faithful assassin. I have a new assignment for you." He smiled warmly. "I want you to take care of the King of Burgun." The way he said it made it seem like he was asking Will to treat a sick patient.

His eyes were glazed by the wall of numbness he had placed around himself. "Isn't that your brother, my Lord?"

"Yes, my _younger_ brother." The influence on the word younger suggested Magnus was reasserting his authority. Will ducked his head demurely in compliance.

"My apologies for the interruption, my Lord. Please, continue."

Magnus looked down his nose at Will. "Very well.

"He is a threat, as he commands a large force of armies. He has long been opposed to me, and is on the brink of joining my enemies in a war against this kingdom, and we can't have that, can we? No." He pulled out a small pouch from one of the many drawers in his desk. Will watched him, motionless. The man had a penchant for poisons and the like - he had even tried to convince Will to tip his arrows with a toxin. He had refused; it reminded him too much of the Genovesan assassins, and he had also countered that none of his shots ever missed the exact spot he had aimed for. Magnus had been disappointed, but let the matter drop. "Now," he continued, "We don't want anyone to realise he has been assassinated, so we'll do things a bit differently this time; get into his quarters using those wonderful Ranger skills of yours, then shake a small amount of this onto the inside of his pillow. He will inhale the poison during his sleep. There are few symptoms - my dear brother will simply seem to suddenly fall ill and pass away. Of course, I will be very saddened by my brother's passing, and it will be with great regret that I will take over his lands and armies. After all, he has no heir to pass that on to." He smiled mirthlessly. "If, by some stroke of fate, he does figure out he has been poisoned, and, even more unlikely, which poison has been used, it won't matter. There is no cure. It is very rare, and I had to get it made especially. Don't lose it on your trip."

Will nodded.

Magnus paused for a moment, then went on. "As he is readying himself to make preparations for war, he will be on alert, with extra guards stationed at his castle." Magnus' features clouded. "Do _not_ get yourself captured. My brother will surely have you tortured to find out who sent you, and if that were to happen it would make war between us a certainty. This way, only one has to die for me to take over. Far less costly than a war." He waved a dismissing hand. "I expect you back in a maximum of three weeks' time, taking into account the possibilities of delays." Will bowed, scooped up the bottle from the desk and left without a sound.

Servants scattered as he walked through the corridors, their fearful whispers following him like tendrils of mist, insubstantial and unnoticed. He made his way silently towards the stables, nearly scaring the stableboy to death when he seemed to appear out of nowhere among the stalls. "Get me the fastest horse you have." The boy nodded fearfully, hurrying to the other end of the stables. Will waited stock-still until the boy returned, leading a bay stallion behind him. He handed Will the lead rein and mumbled something. "What was that?"

"B-Be c-careful, he's v-very sp-spirited," the boy whispered, terror tangling his tongue.

Will looked at the horse with an expert eye. He was a beautiful creature; coat shining like a piece of dark amber, with a liquid black mane and tail and healthy, strong-looking legs. A fiery challenge burned in his eyes.

"What's his name?"

"A-Ardent."

A smile ghosted on Will's lips. Ardent. It was a fitting name.

The horse rolled its eyes, showing the whites, and he shuddered a little as Will hoisted himself into the saddle. Without a word, Will rode away from the castle, quickly urging the bay into a canter.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Like all the days Will had spent as Magnus' assassin, the days he spent in the saddle to get to Burgun were quickly lost to the haze of memory. He easily found himself a place to stay at a local inn, and although his strange cloak drew a few stares, he was quickly forgotten and sat in the corner in relative peace.

He listened to the conversations of those around him from sheer habit, but wasn't really picking up anything interesting. Suddenly, there was a loud crash and a number of shouts of anger from outside. The barman frowned, putting down the cloth he had been cleaning mugs with to see what the commotion was. Moments later, he returned, an angry glint in his eyes.

"Okay, who does that crazy bay belong to? He's just smashed up three stalls of my stable, and the owner of that horse better be paying up!"

Will rose from his seat. "That would be mine." Several heads swivelled in surprise at his voice; most of the patrons had forgotten he was there. Calmly, he dug a few gold coins out of the purse provided by Magnus and flicked them over to the barman, who hastily caught them. "That should cover the damage. If you want, I'll move on for the night."

The barman stared at him, wide-eyed. "N-No, that's fine! You've already paid for your lodging, after all." He shook his head slightly, gazing in shock at the gold sitting in his palm. It would take far less than two gold pieces to fix the smashed stables! He almost wished that, once calmed, the horse would baulk again. If Will paid him once more for the damage, he could clean up nicely.

"If you don't mind, I'll see if I can calm him." Will swept out the door and into the biting cold of the night, making his way quickly to the stables, where several men were actively trying to subdue the crazed horse. Ardent's neighs echoed off the cobblestones as Will stopped outside the wreckage of wood, straw and splinters that had been a stall, pushing the other men out of the way. He threw his hands up. "Ardent!" he barked firmly. The horse rolled his eyes, but seemed to settle a little. Will placed a hand over Ardent's nose, gently pushing his head down. Ardent snorted a few times and tossed his head around a bit, but Will just caught it in his hands again, making soothing shushing noises, and the horse finally quieted.

Muted whispers buzzed in his ears, coming from the direction of the men he had shoved out of the way.

"Wow, did you see that?"

"How could he calm that horse, just like that? It was going crazy a moment ago!"

"He must have a way with horses, if he can get one in a frenzy to settle down so easily."

Will's vision swam, the swirling fog of memories in his head clearing for a moment, and he was sucked in. _A shaggy little horse… with intelligent eyes… What's his name again…? Something to do with pulling… _But then the cloud descended again, and Will was once more standing next to Ardent, three men staring at him in awe. Without any acknowledgement to their presence, Will stalked out of the stables and back into the inn.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Infiltrating the castle was a lot easier than Magnus had led Will believe. Although the security had indeed been increased exponentially, they were still coming from the lower end of the skill level, as all the more experienced and talented soldiers were training for the upcoming war. Besides, there was very low level guarding on the royal bedchambers during the day, when they were not in use. He didn't even come near to being spotted once on the way in, and he was almost yawning as he clambered into the Burgun king's chambers through the window.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"Maria, you are on cleaning duty in the royal chambers. As you know, this is a big responsibility for a maid, and not to be taken lightly."

The maidservant's eyes widened. "Of course, Mistress Emiline. It is an honour and a privilege."

Mistress Emiline nodded with approval. "Go now. If I receive complaint that your work is not up to standard, I will see to it that you are severely punished!"

Maria bobbed into a curtsey. "Of course, Mistress Emiline. I will not let you down."

"Good. Go." She made a shooing motion. Picking up her cleaning equipment, Maria quickly made her way to the royal bedchambers.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Will was just about to pull the bottle of poison from his pocket when he heard footsteps approaching the door. Soundlessly, he moved to the opposite side that the door would open, so that when it did whoever was entering would not be able to see him.

There was a knock on the door. "Be begging your pardon, is anyone in there?" A soft voice drifted through the rich oak door. Will was silent, reaching slowly for his weapons.

The door opened and Maria stepped into the chamber. She closed the door behind herself, then suddenly collapsed to the ground as Will struck her on the back of her head with his strikers. He glanced down at the unconscious figure, making sure she was still alive. If he had killed her by hitting her too hard, it would complicate things. But as he had not, he quickly made an adjustment to his plans and stepped over the slumped form, towards the King's bed.

In a matter of seconds, he had shaken some of the powder onto the inside of all the pillows on the bed, placed them back, picked up the maidservant's limp body and disappeared back out the window.

Under the cover of the shadows cast by the setting sun, Will smuggled the unconscious Maria into an old, abandoned cottage about two hours' ride from the castle. By the time she woke, and made her way back to the castle, the Burgun King would already be lying asleep, unknowingly inhaling a deadly poison. Even if she managed to procure a horse, she would still be too slow. She would be punished when she returned, Will knew; as a maid, she would have very little authority, and her story of being knocked out by an unknown assailant and waking up in a dilapidated old shack would be considered an excuse. That served his purposes well – if she had been found unconscious in the bedchambers, questions would have been asked. But that still did not stop something that was buried in the haze of his memory stir with sympathy. He quickly quashed his emotions. Assassins did not have feelings.

The King of Burgun died three days later.

Will, who had been monitoring the King's rapidly declining health through the whispers of the castle servants, started his return trip to Rolingan as soon as he received confirmation of the Burgun King's death.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

He stood in Magnus' office, his head bowed. "It is done, my Lord."

"Good. Now, I'm afraid you will have to go on assignment again almost immediately."

"Do not concern yourself over me, my Lord. If it is your will that I take a mission now, then I mean to do so."

A small smile flickered across Magnus' face. "Very well then. There is an Araluan travelling here, a member of-" He sifted through some of the numerous papers on the desk. "The Couriers. Word has it they are searching for you and your friend." He glanced up at Will. "Find them. Kill them."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: *le gasp* Will Will do it? Will he go and kill the Courier? The angst! The drama! ARGH! *tears out hair*


	10. Courier

A/N: Le gasp? Is she updating twice within twenty four hours? Yes, yes she is. See, she still feels kinda bad about leaving everyone on that small-ridge-that-wouldn't-kill-you-or-break-any-bones-if-you-fell-off-it-but-it'd-still-hurt-if-you-did-ie for so long, so she thought she'd post up this chapter super quick. She should probably also stop typing in third person too. But she doubts she will. :P

And now, announcing the winning number for the blind poll thingy: *drum roll* number 2! But of course, you still don't know which one that is! Read on and find out.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Will hesitated; he was loathe to kill a fellow Araluan. Two factions of his mind warred. The part of him that was still himself, and desperately told him to stop the murders, that Halt would prefer to die than have innocents slaughtered. And then there was the cold, unfeeling part that had reared its ugly head at about the same time that Will had started to cease caring about the people he was killing. But he had long since become numb to his emotions as well as the assassinations, and the honed killer in his mind won out easily. With a slight bow to Magnus, he left the room silently and set off to prepare himself to kill his next victim.

He didn't notice the way the servants flinched away from him in fear as he passed them, nor that a few of them let out small squeaks of terror. He never did. Even though the sight of Will in the halls and corridors was, by now, a fairly regular occurrence, most of them believed in the Shadow of the Night rumours. Many of the rumours were reflections of ideas held about Rangers in general - that he could make himself one with the shadows, turn invisible, shoot whilst blindfolded - and several borne of fear. These tended to lean even more into realm of the fantastical - he could take the form of a beast (in most stories a giant black wolf), he could summon malevolent spirits and bend them to his will, that each of his arrows was infused with the souls of the damned. The people of Rolingan were deeply superstitious, and Will had become a figure of nightmares.

A quick glance outside showed the late afternoon sun shining lazily upon the villages clustered near the King's castle. Many of them seemed deserted, the people now almost too afraid to leave their homes other than to fetch water from the well or on market days, and even these necessary tasks were performed as quickly and as little as possible.

Will continued on to his quarters.

As his health slowly returned, Halt found himself getting an uncomfortable amount of attention from the guards stationed outside the room he and Will shared. With no order from the King, the guard had doubled and although none of them had taken to beating him again, many of them looked like they wanted to. It was probably only that the King had strictly forbidden any further damage to be dealt to 'Mister Halt' that they refrained from doing so, and Halt knew that sooner or later one of them would risk the King's fury just for the satisfaction of beating the Ranger. Will commented on it in passing to the King, trying to appear offhand, and Magnus took the hint. The guard was reduced to what it had been originally, and to put the men slightly more at ease, he had Halt put in shackles that were riveted firmly into the walls. The portion that remained of Will's old self felt horrible about using his position as royal assassin to his benefit, but at the same time didn't want Halt in danger of another beating.

The guards saw Will approach and quietly opened the door to his glorified prison. It clanked shut behind him.

"Who are you murdering this time?"

Will gazed sightlessly at Halt, replied mindlessly. "There's a Courier travelling through here, looking for us. Magnus has asked me to take care of them, and I will, when evening comes."

Halt looked out the small window at the rapidly sinking sun, then back at Will, and lurched towards him, chains rattling as they stopped him short. He strained against their constricting one and a half metre length. "Will, you can't kill a Courier! You can't do it! You'll be betraying your country!" He struggled ineffectually against the manacles that were starting to cut into his ankles and wrists.

"I have to," Will told him simply. "Stop it, Halt. You're hurting yourself. I didn't make sure the guards couldn't beat you anymore just so you could start hurting yourself."

Halt smiled bitterly. "Ironic, because without these chains, maybe I could strangle some sense into you, and we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Will said nothing, sitting himself down on his bed - well out of Halt's reach. The shadows lengthened even further as the sun touched the horizon, and Will finally stood again. Halt shouted desperately at him.

"Will! You can't do this! I won't ever forgive you if you do, and if we ever get out of this godforsaken place, I will wring your miserable, traitorous little neck myself! Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME? I'll never forgive you this, Will! I disown you! I wish I had never given you into the Baron's care! You are no apprentice of mine!" His harsh words fell on deaf ears. Will slipped out into the corridor and collected his weapons from the guard, ignoring Halt's continued rant until he was too far away to hear it at all.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

The woman moved through the streets as easily as one would expect of a local, however she was clearly an outsider. Even to Will, standing in the shadow of the huge chimney of one of the larger inns some hundred metres away, this was apparent. Rumours of the Shadow of the Night obviously had not yet reached her ears, otherwise, she would not be outside so close to dark. The few people she saw near their windows or doors quickly closed them as she passed by; for all they knew, she could have been an apparition of the Shadow of the Night in the form of a beautiful woman, created to allay their senses and to lead them to their doom. She tried to talk to some of them, but they all turned away in fear before she could get a word in. Glad for the warm weave of her pale blue travelling cloak, she drew it tighter around herself and headed towards the nearest inn.

She flitted in between the buildings and Will, who had until now been completely motionless, nocked an arrow, waiting for her to stop or to reach an open space. And soon enough, she did, pausing in her stride to readjust her cloak again.

He frowned. There was something familiar about the tall, graceful woman. And she was Araluan, after all. But then the months of numbness kicked in again. The arrow wavered only slightly as he released it, but its aim was still true. It soared through the air, tore through the delicate flesh of her shoulder. Bright red blood welled around the wound, sharply contrasting with the pristine whiteness of her dress and the pale blue of her cloak. She let out a sharp cry of pain and shock. Then she crumpled to the ground, motionless. He slung his bow over his back.

The fog in his head cleared.

Something clicked in his mind, and he felt like someone had just torn out his heart and trodden on it. Scrambling off the rooftop he had perched himself on, he ran towards the square where the woman had dropped. As he ran, he tried to scream, but his vocal chords didn't seem to want to respond. Instead, he mouthed one word, over and over, lips moving almost of their own accord.

Alyss.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: I know it was painfully obvious who the Courier was, but I bet you didn't expect her to get shot! I bet you thought he'd realise at the last moment. Well, you were wrong. Bwahahaha. I be ebil.

-pixie.


	11. Relive It

A/N: Okay, I know this is completely ruining the mood of the story, but I can't help myself. *snigger* You know what I just found out? The word 'assassin' is actually derived from the word 'hashish,' as in the drug. *dies laughing*

*cricket chirp*

... Well, _I _thought it was funny!

Stupid cricket.

Oh, and I wasn't braining properly the other day, 'cause I had the dumb. So it's _this_ chapter that's the first that's more than 3,000 words. :P

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"How did it go?" the King asked idly, dipping a snowy white quill into a pot of midnight blue ink.

Will forced his face to go blank and his eyes to glaze, his voice deadpan. He hoped that the King wouldn't notice the slight redness in his eyes that would show that he had been crying. "She's dead."

He looked up, noting with satisfaction Will's apparent lack of emotion. "Good. I thought you might have had second thoughts. One of the few instances where I enjoy being proved wrong." The quill scratched across the parchment in front of him. "You are dismissed. I will call you here when you have a new target."

Will nodded, bowed, and with a murmured, "My Lord," left the room.

Servants scattered before him as he walked past, as always, and he ignored them, as always. He swiftly made the twists and turns and up the numerous sets of stairs that led to his quarters. He nodded at the guards standing in front of his room, and they swung back the thick oak door. Once it closed behind him, Will almost ran to his cot and fell onto it. Chains clanked as Halt sat up. He took one look at Will's inert form and whispered, "Dear god, Will, you didn't actually kill the Courier, did you?"

His voice was muffled by the pillow. "I shot Alyss."

Halt struggled against his manacles, trying in vain to reach him, though even if he did reach his apprentice, he wasn't sure what he would have done. Will didn't hear it, though; he had already started to relive the events that had followed Alyss being hit by his arrow.

_"No, no, no, Alyss, don't be dead, you can't be dead," he whispered, his vocal chords finally responding as he reached her. He fluttered his hands uselessly over her still form. Blood still continued to surge sluggishly around the arrow shaft._

_"Will?" she asked softly, turning towards the sound of his voice._

_He lifted his tearstained face to look at hers. Yes, she was definitely, illogically, alive. But how? He looked again at the spot where the arrow - his arrow - had pierced her shoulder. It had missed her heart by a hair's breadth. Will's brow furrowed; he was glad he had, but how on earth had he missed? With a sudden flash of clarity he remembered the moment of hesitation when he released the bowstring. It had thrown off his aim by the smallest, most minute fraction of a millimetre. That space had multiplied as the arrow flew towards its target, finally ending up buried in Alyss' shoulder, about five centimetres above where Will had intended the shot to hit. Never before had such a small distance meant so much to him; to Alyss, it meant her life. _

_But she had still been hit, and blood was still welling up from the wound. Gently, he lifted her torso off the ground, undoing her cloak as he did so. He grimaced. The arrow had bitten deep. Simply pulling it out would cause even more damage than before. He knew there was only one thing he could do. _

_Push the arrow through the rest of the way._

_"Alyss, you're going to have to be strong now. I have to push the arrow through the back of your shoulder, it'll cause less damage. Try not to scream." _

_She murmured something that could have been an acknowledgement and buried her face into his neck. Somewhat awkwardly, compensating for their new position, Will adjusted them both so that he could more easily reach the arrow. Wincing, he firmly grasped the shaft and pushed it through Alyss' back. She bit him, hard, trying to smother her screams. Blood and mutilated flesh clotted the arrowhead. It slipped a bit in his hands, but Will gripped it tight and started to pull it all the way through. Alyss didn't scream again, but started to sob quietly. Tears tracked down Will's own cheeks at her pain. He wished he could snap the arrow shaft so there would have been less of it to push through, but knew that it was likely that a splinter would come off inside her shoulder, and even more likely that it would become infected. Finally, it was out, and he tossed it away. It clattered on the cobblestones and disappeared into a small alley. _

_Deftly, he pulled out his medical kit. He had been carrying it more out of habit than anything else, and he was glad of it now. Pushing the shoulder of her dress out of the way so he could more easily reach the wound, he gasped at the damage he had caused, then steeled himself. He got out the small canteen and washed away the worst of the blood, then, hands shaking, applied a salve that would help the injury heal and keep infection at bay. He placed a padded cloth at each side of the wound. Finally, a tight enough bandage to hold both pieces of cloth in place and to press the laceration closed to reduce the blood flowing from it._

_"Will?" she asked again._

_"Yes, Alyss?" His voice was tight._

_"Jus' wanna make sure i's you," she mumbled, words slurred as she slipped from consciousness. "I came for you 'n' Halt... Wan' you t'know I r'mbered..."_

_"Alyss? Alyss! No, I'm so sorry, how could I ever do this?" Weeping, he picked up the semi-conscious young woman and carried her, bridal style, to the nearest house. With some difficulty he pounded on the door. "Somebody, please, help! A girl's been shot by an arrow, she's lost a lot of blood!"_

_A muffled reply came through the locked door. "How do we know it's not the Shadow of the Night, trying to catch us?" they asked, fear cracking their voice. "And even if it's not, if she got hit by an arrow, then it will surely be the Shadow of the Night that shot her! We do not want to bring his wrath upon us by harbouring the one person he did not manage to kill on his first shot!" As the footsteps faded away from the door, Will knew no amount of knocking would bring them back. And that the rest of the street would react in the same way._

_Despairingly, he sunk to the ground, still cradling Alyss in his arms._

_"I can help you, Will, Shadow of the Night."_

_Will's head shot up. "What?"_

_A tall woman, taller than Alyss, materialised out of the alleyway which Will had thrown the gory arrow. She was dressed simply; a pair of worn boots, a thick grey cloak and a similarly coloured dress tied at the waist. "I can help you," she repeated patiently._

_"But... Why? How do you know who I am?"_

_She smiled. "I know a lot of the rumours surrounding you are not true. That you can turn into a giant black wolf, or bind the souls of the damned into your arrows? Pah. People in these parts are so superstitious, they'll believe anything." Glancing at Will for permission, she gently lifted Alyss from his arms. "I am Ysabeau. Come, I will help you. What is her name?"_

_"Alyss." Numbly, Will followed her. What else could he do? Many twists and turns later, they were free of the claustrophobic clutter of houses in the main village, and into the open air of the woods. A thin, worn track led to a pretty little cottage, tucked under a thick oak tree. Still carrying Alyss, the woman led him down the path. Flowers and herbs of all kinds spilled from the netted boxes surrounding her home. "I grow all my own ingredients, that way I know I haven't been cheated by someone not selling what they are claiming. There are plenty of honest marketers out there, but enough that cheat to make you wary. And so, I have my little garden troughs. They're fresher this way, too."_

_Once inside, Will was hit by a wave of warmth. Sighing gratefully, he felt feeling start to return to his hands; they had almost gone numb from the cold. In Rolingan, the nights grew chilly very quickly. He then turned his attention back to Ysabeau, who was carefully placing Alyss on a wheeled cot. She took off her own cloak and hung it up. Will could see her properly now. Her hair hung in a long, loose plait down her back. It had once been a vibrant red, but age had faded it to strawberry blonde. The first hints of snowy white were showing at her temples. Bright, dark eyes sparkled in a face of few wrinkles - there were only two wavy furrows on her forehead and the beginnings of a line each side of her mouth. She made sure Alyss was as comfortable as she could be and then started bustling around the tidy cottage. Flowers and herbs hung to dry from the ceiling, as you would expect at any healer's, but Ysabeau had rigged up some long, dish-like apparatus underneath each herb section to catch all the fallen petals and seeds. Will nodded to himself; far less mess that way, and he was sure that the fallen plant fragments could still be of use. A fire crackled cheerily in the large hearth, the source of the room's heat._

_She looked back at him. "Is the door shut?" Will nodded. "Good. None of the spies will be able to hear us." He opened his mouth, but she already knew the question springing to his lips. "The King's spies. They would have seen us in the square, and followed. No, they wouldn't have been close enough to hear our conversation there. The King wants to make sure you don't just run off when you're given a mission. Not likely, when he holds your mentor prisoner, but he still finds the possibility a threat. Nod a couple of times; it will make the spies think I am simply explaining what I am preparing." _

_He nodded. "Would they expect me to ask you questions?"_

_Smiling warmly, she replied, "Yes. Questions are good."_

_"What _are_ you making?"_

_Her grin widened and her dark eyes crinkled. She turned her face away from the window, away from the prying eyes of the spies. "A blood-strengthening tea. I'll also add a sleeping draught; the body uses rest to help recover itself. It is best to encourage that." Once finished with her preparations, she gently poured the tea into Alyss' mouth. She swallowed, then was still. Will went tense with worry. "Relax, she is just asleep." He eased a little and tossed back his hood; it was starting to get heavy in the heat. "My, you really are quite young," she murmured, then sighed. "It is not right for one your age to have the blood of so many on your hands."_

_"How do you know all these things about me?"_

_"Magnus is not the only one with spies. I am among the finest at my art in these parts. In fact, I'm one of the only of my art in these parts. But that's not important. I've saved the lives of many. They feel indebted to me, and many of them are castle servants. Almost all the Rolingan knights come to me whenever they get injured. They give me interesting information whenever they visit. Don't tell the King that, though. You look thirsty. Would you like some water?" He nodded, and she glided to the door. She arrived back a few moments later, heaving a large bucket of water. Putting the bucket down near Alyss' cot, she reached for a tin cup from the shelf. Will walked over and gratefully accepted the cup, dipping it into the bucket and taking a sip._

_"The water is far less bitter here than in the castle. Don't the wells tap as deep near the villages?"_

_The folds on her face multiplied as she frowned, then sighed. "I feared this to be the case. Will, you have been poisoned. And I am afraid I am the one who made the poison."_

_He forced his expression to stay the same. "What? Why did you make the poison? Is there a cure?"_

_"Goodness, yes, there's a cure. You've been taking that around the same length of time you've been taking the poison. Otherwise you'd already be dead." She fussed over Alyss, readjusting the bandages, making it seem to the spies that she was just explaining more of what she was doing, or making small talk. "Magnus gives me the money I need for my herbs, flowers and whatever I need for day to day things. In turn, I have to make him whatever medicine - or poison - he asks. That way, I don't have to charge the poor to come here. And the poison you have been given - it is a mix of otherwise harmless ingredients. It makes you more susceptible to suggestion, weakens memory and is lethal in large enough doses or over a long time without the antidote. Doubtless he wanted to be able to convince you to assassinate more readily, mould you into a perfect assassin that couldn't remember a life before assassination... and that you would die if you refused or escaped. True, you have been given the antidote with the poison, but not enough that the drug is completely out of your bloodstream. If you left now without the antidote, you would die within the month. _

_"The drug is not heavily flavoured, but it is slightly bitter, which isn't much noticed when you first consume it. The doses build up over time, but part of the poison is that you are numbed to those sorts of things. Only drinking non-drugged water would make you realise the difference in taste, like you just have. I can't give you the antidote here, it would look too suspicious. When you escape, come to me, and I will give you the antidote, as long as you take me with you." Will nodded. He could see she was truly sorry for having made the poison, and was doing everything she could to save him from it, and to save Alyss from death. But there was still a seed of doubt, a suspicion that Will hoped was unfounded. Somewhat desperately, he asked, "It's not addictive or anything, is it?"_

_"Not at all. Why do you ask?" She was visibly puzzled by Will's reaction. _

_"... I'd rather not say." Now that he was sure the drug wouldn't be anything like warmweed, he relaxed, but not enough that he would tell someone he had only just met something as personal as what had happened in Skandia._

_"That's understandable."_

_She held a finger to Alyss' neck, checking her pulse, and shook her head sadly at Will. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

_Will's blood froze. "What?" he rasped._

_She continued to speak. "Don't change your expression; I'm trying to make the spies think she has died. She's fine, and with a strong, young body like hers, will almost definitely pull through." Will kept the mask of horror in place, but felt relief wash through him. "Try to cry a little, if you can." He let the fresh tears that had sprung up slide down his cheeks as she wheeled the bed into a small back-room, but they were tears of relief. Ysabeau came back into the room, her own eyes glistening as she placed her hands on Will's shoulders. "I'm sorry I cannot do more for you, when you will be helping me escape this place. I thank you for that, Will."_

_"It hardly measures up to all you have done for me. I will be back, I promise." He flipped his cowl over his head._

_"See on the shelf just above the washbasin, the jar third across from the edge?" Will's eyes, invisible under his cowl, picked out the large jar Ysabeau was talking about. He could see what she meant about it looking suspicious if he had taken the antidote with him - the jar was almost the size of his head. "That is the antidote. When you need it, take two tablespoons of the powder. It will rid you of the rest of the poison in your body. You may want to give some to your friend Halt as well, just in case. It will do nothing if he is not poisoned, so it is safe."_

_"Why are you telling me this?"_

_She smiled grimly. "Just in case something goes wrong."_

_"Thank you, Ysabeau. I really don't think there's anything I can do to repay you."_

_"You have saved me from Magnus' tyranny. That is all the thanks I need." Her hands slid from his shoulders and he felt something small drop into his pocket. "Use that to melt the chains holding Halt, so he can escape with you. It will take only a minute to dissolve the chain enough that you can snap them. Just don't get any on your hands. That would hurt. A lot."_

_He thanked her again and left the warmth of the cottage, wiping away the tears as he went._

"Will?"

He took a shuddering breath, fingering the small bottle Ysabeau had given him. "Yes, Halt?"

"Why did you do it? How could you find it within yourself to kill Alyss?" Halt didn't want to ask these questions, but he wanted to know the answers.

"I didn't kill Alyss."

Halt's eyebrows shot up. "You didn't? But I thought you said you shot her!"

"I did. I missed her heart. I took her to a healer. She's fine."

Relief sagged his features. "That'll be one of the few times I'll be glad you missed your target."

"And after dinner comes," Will continued quietly, "we're escaping, and taking Alyss and the healer with us." Halt looked at him sharply.

"What?"

"The healer gave me an acid that will melt your chains. I'll go out and collect my weapons from the guards, like I'm headed out for another assassination. Then I'll knock them unconscious and we'll leave the castle. I know most of the secret passages in the castle by now. We'll go to the healer's house, take her and Alyss and go to the sea to barter passage back to Araluen. Home."

Halt stared at him for a few seconds. Then, for the first time in months, gave him a genuine smile. "It's good to have you back, Will."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Yay, heading towards a happy ending! ...Or are we...? *ominous thunder*


	12. Healer's Cottage

Will hurriedly explained to Halt about the poison in their food, and the antidote at Ysabeau's cottage. Now know that their food was poisoned, neither of them could stomach it as easily. They still managed, and the guards didn't notice anything amiss.

He counted to one hundred after the guard with the tray of food left, then quietly pulled out the acid Ysabeau had given him from the hollow he had created in the leg of his cot on the side facing the wall. Quickly, he padded over to Halt and helped him to lift his bed and move it over so he had enough room to hold his manacles out over the ground. Will carefully let a few drops fall onto the chains at his wrist. They began to fizzle immediately, and they were soon able to pull the chains free. Halt sat up and Will repeated the process. He still had the manacles clamped onto his wrists and ankles, as there was too much chance that the acid would eat into his flesh if they tried to get them off, but at least he was free of the chains. Picking up one of the towels, Will gently wiped away the excess acid from the chains and the floor, then threw the towel under his bed. The acid had already begun to eat holes through it. Halt climbed back into his bed, arranging the chains so to any curious guard that peered in, it would look like they were still attached to his manacles. He smiled faintly. _People only see what they want to see._

Will knocked on the door, schooling his expression into blankness. It creaked open and the surly face of the guard appeared in the crack. "What is it?"

"His Majesty King Magnus has requested my presence after I had finished dinner."

"Why didn't I get a message about it then?" His tone was suspicious.

He shrugged. "I don't know. The castle messengers are lazy at best most of the time. They probably got distracted." The guard still didn't look convinced. Will allowed some hardness into his eyes. "Do you want to have to explain to the King why I am late?"

The guard hastily opened the door, gazing at Halt, who looked innocent enough, sleeping quietly and securely chained - or so the guard thought. Shrugging slightly, he said, "Fine, off you go then."

Will nodded his thanks and stepped into the corridor. He walked over to the other guard, the one that had his weapons. He put his hand out.

"Wait, why do you need your weapons to see the King?" the first guard asked.

He held back in impatient sigh. "Because he is probably giving me a briefing for my next assassination, and will more than likely want me to head out immediately rather than have to come back here and get my weapons."

The second guard nodded. It made sense. First, he handed Will the bow. He quickly strung it and slung it over his shoulder. Next came the quiver. Then his double hilt, the saxe knife and throwing knife each sliding into their corresponding sheaths. Finally, the two bronze strikers. Will screwed them together, moving to slot them into the holder on his belt.

With a sudden, blinding speed, Will whacked the guard on the side of the head with the striker. He slumped to the ground. Before the first guard could react, Will had thrown the striker at him, hitting him in the centre of his forehead and he joined his fellow guard on the floor. Slotting the striker into its holder, Will stepped over the unconscious guards. He popped his head around the door and grinned at the 'sleeping' form of Halt. "Get up, sleepy bones. The coast is clear." His eyes shot open and he glared at his apprentice, shrugging off the chains and crossing the room. "Actually, wait here for just a moment." He rushed of silently, disappearing down a corridor. He came running back a few moments later.

Halt raised an eyebrow. "That was quick. Good to see you haven't lost your touch. What were you doing?"

"I'll tell you later." Will smiled and pulled out a second bundle that the guards had been holding in their custody. "They really shouldn't leave stuff like this lying around. Why, anyone could have taken it!" His smile stretched into a mirthful grin. Gratefully, Halt strapped his weapons in place and swung his Ranger's cloak around his shoulders, sighing at its comfortable, familiar presence. Will nodded and headed over to a torch bracket hanging a little lower than the others. Halt followed. He pulled the bracket down, and with the sound of stone grating on stone, the wall turned and they found themselves turning into in a different passageway. Looking at the other side of the wall Halt could see it was almost identical on both sides. No one would notice the difference. Once it stopped, the stones blended seamlessly with the others, and you would only see the thin line of the separate floor pieces if you were looking for it.

"That's a little cliché, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but it works."

They quickly ran down the stairs, Will in the lead. There had been no servants as of yet, which was lucky; Will had no idea what they'd do if they came across any of them. And with a castle this size, it would have been almost impossible not to.

As it turned out, he didn't need to do anything. The servants were as scared of Will as anyone could be of someone that they had been told was a demon. To them, fact that Halt had iron fetters around his wrists and ankles only proved the theory that Will somehow bound the souls of the damned into his arrows. They scattered before the two cloaked figures, dropping their loads and pressing themselves to the walls as they passed.

"I hope you know where you're going," Halt muttered under his breath. He also hoped they would get wherever they were going soon; having been imprisoned for nearly a year had taken its toll, and he was nowhere near as fit as he was used to.

With an amused look on his face, Will watched his mentor labouring down the stairs behind him. "You've been inside to long, old man. You've gone soft." He grinned and danced out of Halt's reach. "You're not still going to wring my neck, are you? You said if we escaped, you would."

Halt shook his head. "No, you were under the influence of that drug when you killed those people. And we haven't escaped yet, not really. But call me old man again and I will."

His grin grew wider. "Come on, then." And he bounded down the last few steps and into another passage. Halt came down at a slightly more measured pace. "Almost there," Will called back to him, and they ran through the twisting corridors until, finally, emerging at the east side of the castle. "Now here's where we'll have to be careful. Any one of the sentries could see us. We'll stick to the alleyways, just stay behind me." _And hopefully I'll be able to remember how to get to Ysabeau's cottage_, he added in his mind. His fears were unfounded; they weren't spotted, and soon enough, they found the worn little track that lead to Ysabeau's home. "Okay Will, I'll head over to the north side of the cottage through the woods and wait for you. You'll get Alyss and the healer and meet me there. Is that okay with you?" His apprentice nodded, and he melted into the trees.

Will stepped onto the path and headed towards Ysabeau's cottage. He frowned and quickened his pace as he saw the front door hanging open like a gaping mouth. Crossing the threshold, he scanned the cottage, his gut twisting as he surveyed the damage.

Herbs and flowers had been torn from the ceiling, trampled by booted feet. Several of the troughs Ysabeau had hung up to catch the falling petals and seeds from her hanging herbs dangled on single strings, their contents strewn on the floor, or smashed to pieces and lying among the strewn plants. Several pieces of furniture had been toppled over. The higher shelves had been untouched, but most of the lower shelves had had their jars knocked off, lying shattered on the ground. Shards of clay crunched under Will's boots as he all but sprinted into the small back room. With relief, he saw Alyss still there on her cot, a fresh bandage wrapped around her wound. Breathing calmly, he placed a finger against her neck and counted slowly.

There was no pulse.

"No..." he whispered. Tears blurred his vision. He couldn't have lost her now. That made it all his fault. He had shot her, and that had put her in this position. Forcing himself to think clearly, he remembered something else. Or, more specifically, someone else. "Ysabeau!" he yelled, waiting desperately for a response. There was none. Where was she? He ran back to the front room, searching frantically for the healer. Finally, he saw a pair of boot-clad feet sticking out from behind the overturned couch. Holding his breath, he cautiously walked towards them.

Ysabeau slowly came into view, and Will let out his pent-up breath in shock. Blood was smattered all over her body, but most concentrated around her chest. She wasn't moving. Not even the smallest rise and fall of her chest to indicate life. Will checked for a pulse anyway, but didn't find one.

His head snapped up as he heard a shuffle near the door. He knew it wasn't Halt. Slowly, he turned to the source of the noise.

Magnus stood there, a grim, dark-haired knight with a blood-coated sword behind him. The King frowned and shook his head at Will. "Escape if you must, but did you really have to involve Ysabeau? Such a shame. She was a wonderful herbalist."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: Dun dun duuuuuuuuunn! Yeah, bet you all hate me now. No amount of threatening will make me change it, so don't bother. :P

-pixie.


	13. At An End

A/N: It's finally here! The not-so-epic conclusion to Unwilling Assassin!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

"I'm feeling generous, Will. I'll give you about five seconds to leave. If you don't I'll set my swordsman on you." He indicated the man behind him.

"One."

Will looked at the man holding the bloodied sword.

"Two."

He could kill him and Magnus at the same time with ease. Just throw the saxe knife and throwing knife into each of their throats and be done with it.

"Three."

But there was something in the man's eyes, and Will saw himself reflected in this man. A puppet on Magnus' string, just like Will had been. And Will had already killed far too many.

"Four."

He couldn't kill him. Magnus, definitely; but then the man might take it upon himself to avenge his monarch, and then Will would have to kill him, add to the blood that already stained his hands. He charged past the two Rolingan men before the count reached five.

"That's right, Will, you run!" Magnus shouted as Will sprinted to where Halt was hidden. "You'll be dead within the month, you and that old man of yours! The poison I had placed in your meals will ensure that!" His voice grew louder as Will disappeared into the trees. "I look forward to my men finding your bodies!"

Will closed his eyes, panting harshly as he stopped next to Halt. "...I was too late. Alyss and Ysabeau were already ... They were already dead when I got there." Tears ran down his cheeks again and Halt put a comforting arm around his sobbing apprentice.

Magnus waved at the man to go fetch their horses. After a few attempts, he lifted his heavy body into the saddle. "Burn the cottage."

The knight looked at him in surprise. "Aren't you going to watch, my Lord?"

He shook his head. "I'm far too busy for that. I'll be able to see it from my study anyway." With that, he cantered back to the castle.

Shrugging to himself, the knight turned to his pack, pulled out two flint stones and a torch and set to lighting it. He looked at the direction in which Magnus had set off, and satisfied that quickly receding plume of dust was far enough away, dropped his tools. "Rangers Will and Halt?" he called tentatively. They both stiffened slightly in their positions amongst the trees, but didn't move other than that. "You can come out. I'm here to help you, honest. Mistress Ysabeau said to tell you... Two tablespoons of powder from the third jar across, on the shelf above the sink. She said it would mean something to you."

"The antidote..." Will whispered and broke cover, motioning Halt to do the same. "This man is telling the truth. He's here to help us."

The knight smiled and sheathed his bloodied sword at the sight of the two Rangers. "Thank goodness you hadn't left yet. You would have died if you had. Mistress Ysabeau has told you about the poison, yes?" Will nodded. "Good. Come, the antidote."

"Why are you helping us?"

"Mistress Ysabeau saved my life many years ago, before I was enlisted as a full-fledged knight. Since then, I've become one of the higher ranking officers in Rolingan. Sir Maverick. Pleased to meet you." He shook both their hands and led them back into the cottage. "I've been her informant ever since she saved me. Having gotten to such a high power position has made me very valuable to her in that respect. It was how she knew so much about your imprisonment." He smiled. "And now she has saved your lives, too."

"But she died doing it," Will murmured. Ysabeau had told him that he had saved her from Magnus' tyranny. He hadn't realised then that she meant by taking her to her death. "Maverick, if you owe her your life, why did you kill her?"

His smile widened. "Oh no, I didn't kill her. Magnus didn't watch. For all his ordering people to their deaths, he really is squeamish about watching someone killed when they have nothing to defend themselves with. Killing in the heat of the moment, he doesn't mind; when it's in cold blood, he can't bear to watch." He shrugged. "I don't understand it, though it's lucky he's that way – otherwise I might have had to actually injure her. I just knocked around a few things, she screamed a bit and helped me strew some blood around. Chicken's blood," he added at Will's slightly disgusted expression. "She took a potion that mimics death, in case Magnus did come in to check - not that he did. It was all staged so Magnus would think he had gotten his way."

Will dared to let a spark of hope come to life. "...Does that mean Alyss took the potion too?"

He shrugged sympathetically. "I don't know. Mistress Ysabeau didn't mention it." The small flame was quickly snuffed.

Halt had his head cocked, squinting at Maverick, sudden anger flaring in his eyes. "Weren't you one of the guards that helped in my capture?"

He put out his hands in an appeasing gesture. "In my defence, I was only involved when you attacked me, and even then I was never on the attack, and I didn't participate in your beatings. I already knew of your coming, and Mistress Ysabeau said I was not to harm you, that you would be able to help her." Shrugging helplessly, he continued, "I'm sorry there wasn't anything I could do to make you more comfortable during your imprisonment without the other members of the guard getting suspicious." Shrinking under Halt's glare, he hastily busied himself, pulling a jar off one of the myriad shelves and letting the some of the sluggish brown liquid inside drop into Ysabeau's mouth.

She coughed and spluttered, sitting up. "Thank you, Maverick." She looked at the still stricken Will. Her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Alyss? Did... Did she...?"

Her forehead set itself back into its normal two wrinkles. "No, she's had the potion too." Will's shoulders sagged in relief. He wasn't sure he could take much more stress like this. "Maverick, could you please give the girl in the back room some of that? Not too much; she had less than I did, considering her already weakened state. One or two drops should do." He nodded and walked into the back room, followed closely by Will. Halt held out a hand to help Ysabeau to her feet, and she gladly accepted. She was still a little weak from the death mimicking potion. Happy murmurs from the next room indicated that Alyss was alive and as healthy as she could be, all things considering. Using Will and Maverick as support, she hobbled awkwardly into the room. Halt righted the couch and they carefully lowered the injured girl on it. Will ducked his head under Ysabeau's disapproving gaze.

"She insisted."

Ysabeau's eyes turned to Maverick, who nodded and moved away again. "Halt, Will, I assume you've taken the antidote?" They looked at each other. "I'll take that as a no. Go, now. Spoons are in the draw next to the sink." She made a shooing motion at them and they hurried to take the antidote like their lives depended on it - which they did. Will nearly spat it out as soon as it came in contact with his tongue, but forced himself to swallow both tablespoons.

"That may have saved my life, but it tastes disgusting."

"Oh, it can't be that bad." Halt motioned for Will to hand him the spoon. He did, and Halt ladled two spoonfuls into his own mouth. "Good lord!" he spluttered, making a face and scooping a cup through the water bucket in a vain attempt to wash away the flavour of the antidote. "How did we not notice that in our food?"

She grimaced sympathetically. "Sorry about the taste. There wasn't that much in your food, because there only had to be enough to keep the poison at bay."

Maverick came back, carrying four bulging packs. Halt eyed them with trepidation. "What's in there? Provisions for a besieged castle?"

Ysabeau smiled. "My most valuable plants and healer's tools, and seeds for just about every herb and flower I've ever collected." Ysabeau answered. "We'll each be carrying a bag when we leave. I'll carry the heaviest, of course."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Will we really?" Then he frowned. "There are four bags, and five of us. How will we each be carrying a pack?"

She smiled sadly. "Maverick won't be coming with us. Magnus will get suspicious if he doesn't return after razing my house to the ground. He won't search for you until enough time has passed for you to have succumbed to the poison - that gives us about a month. More, because they'll have to catch up on the ground we've covered."

"But they'll eat up the distance quickly," Will said despairingly. "They took Tug once they'd captured me. Same with Abelard, I'm sure." Halt nodded.

"I have a surprise for you then, gentlemen. Shoulder your packs. Maverick, you carry Alyss and her pack for now, please. Follow me." She picked up her pack and went out the door. They followed her up what seemed to be a winding game trail. Without warning, it opened up into a clearing, where four sturdy horses stood grazing. "You didn't think I hadn't already thought about that, did you?" She asked Halt and Will, but they weren't listening. They had dropped their bags and breezed past her, running towards two of the more familiar horses. Will buried his face into Tug's mane, hugging him, and Halt was doing much the same with Abelard.

"But... How?" Will stammered at Ysabeau, who had walked over at a more measured pace.

"It wasn't hard. I have connections in high places." She gestured at Maverick. "There was quite a contest up at the castle for a while, to see if anyone could actually ride either of them for more than about two seconds."

Will smiled warmly. "Thank you for getting Tug and Abelard for us. You have no idea how much it means."

"I don't know much about Rangers or their horses, but I can tell that they're more than they look. The speed that they maintained on the way here was done so with such ease... They really are a breed apart." She pointed to the two other horses grazing in the field. "Those two are mine. Alyss and I will be riding those. I know they won't be able to keep up with your Ranger horses if they go full out, but can sustain pace for a long period of time if need be. They have helped on numerous occasions when I had to get a patient back to my house as quickly as possible.

"Speaking of which, Maverick, you should go burn the cottage now. Otherwise Magnus will know we have tricked him." He nodded, setting Alyss on her feet and dropping his pack. "Farewell, my friend." She waved as he walked of, tears misting her eyes. "I shall miss him. The man is like a son to me."

Halt, tailed closely by Abelard, stood next to her and gazed at Will, who was hugging Tug and Alyss at the same time, talking animatedly to both of them. He didn't look away from the happy sight as he spoke. "I know exactly what you mean."

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: So, number 2 was the happy ending after all. Has your mind EXPLODED yet? I think mine did when I came up with the idea for the chapter sequence. Seriously, though, this story had a major case of prolonged, two months long PMS. Let me actually count the mood changes. Okay, started off normal… then it went angsty, then action-y, then angsty again, then action-y again, then angsty… again… and stayed like that for a while. When that was happening, I put in that big anti-climax in where Will had to go kill the King of Burgun, so I'll count that as a mood. (It does count, right?) Then it went sad, then happy! Then sad. And then happy again! Then the fic was finished. That's… wow… ten changes. Yeah, PMS.

Which (not really) brings me to my next point.

I'd like to apologise for 'killing' Alyss… again… it's just I have a lot of fun of pretending to kill her. That's why I've done it twice. I'll leave her alone... For this story, anyway. *evil cackle*

Also, just a shout out to all the wonderful people who have reviewed, put on alert, favourited or just generally supported this fic. Those amazing lot are: Dodo.123, PhantomDragon12, runningcrazy4EVER, ILuvHorses, Storm-Horse101, The random person, linguisticsrock, Seditious Dragon, Crazy Cupcake Queen, Rydd Rider, fairytaleluver, Fuego Azule, whoever it was that anonymously reviewed without a signature, sicily, am80951, LukeSkywaker278, Bek-K, Julz, Mystery Maiden 016, billie, Iceqbz, rider of the winds, horseislove, valentine142, Smileys, ZuliaGirl, dolphin12145, RoMythe, , glub, Deltoraquestlover, Alyss Mainwaring, Hawky or Sparky, Prayer-of-the-Forgotten, Purple Gal, Alorthia, FlyingFlower666'-'666, Gamedreamer, PacificThunder, Snips95, luke, Joelle Blackhawk, Snickerdodlecookiesandpandas, Alchemist-Ranger, Supreme Evil Overlord, Sharonneke95, Infectious Laughter, Lady Foxtrot, Ranger Aduil, anaduri, and Caelhir. Wow, a lot more of you than I thought there was. If you think I've missed you, or you reviewed/alerted/favourited after I posted this chapter, just PM me, I'll add it to the list and give my most profound apologies for those I left out (if any). :)

...And I just realised this is the first chapter where the only line breaks were for the Author's Notes. Yay for me. *throws mini-party*

Oh, and my first 100+ review story! Party hats and balloon animals for all!

Well, this is the end for now. I can't do much more with this story at the moment because of my craptop still being with the guy, but once I get it back I'll be able to post the alternate endings (because I'd written those after I did the backup, but I wrote the ending that was actually picked beforehand, so that one was on my USB… lucky huh?) and also the sequel. So, that's something for you guys to all look forward to.

…Or, you know, not. Whatever you choose.

Until then,

-pixie.


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